Wished Away
by WorldInvent
Summary: Wishes are being interrupted. The safety of the wished away is compromised. Is it mortal interference? Sinister plans? Or just a simple nuisance? Either way: do not fail to do your job.
1. Chapter 1

_Jareth_

 _1_

The apartment complex was a quiet bustle of activity. A few lights had been turned on and out of the three floors there was noticeable movement in only two windows. A police car was parked on the curb, engine running, doors ajar. On the stoop one officer stood guarding the entrance; another had entered earlier with at least two other people. The neighborhood its self was quiet and dark, most occupants completely unaware of the situation inside the apartment.

From the roof top of a nearby complex two figures stood and watched. In daylight they would have been glaringly out of place in their garments: one wore a blue cape that haphazardly draped his shoulders and trailed the ground; the other a frock coat with an elaborate gold fleur de lis pattern. In the dark of the night they were unnoticed. They both stared down at the scene. The one in the cape repeatedly switched his weight from foot to foot, one moment leaning forward in concentration, the next pulling back with a huff. His companion alternated twisting each side of his mouth in puzzlement. The latter finally turned and addressed the one in the cape. "Again," he said. "How is this possible Jareth?"

Jareth Choblyn grabbed the hem of his cape and twitched. "It shouldn't be possible," was his curt reply. He raised his chin, straining to see what was going on below. He could very well have shifted to owl form, flown down for a closer look, but he was far too agitated, too likely to make a mistake.

"This makes, what, the fourth interrupted summons over the course of the last six months?"

"Yes Stephen."

Stephen pulled his mouth once more to the side. "Again," he said.

As the two men watched another police car arrived. Three individuals, a woman and two men, exited the vehicle and were allowed inside.

"It certainly is peculiar."

Another twitch of the cape. "Yes," agreed Jareth.

"I suppose one could be grateful." Stephen Nightwalker paused, sensing Jareth's gaze shift to him. "It would stand to reason that these children are being looked after now, instead of being tossed aside."

Jareth swallowed. That very assumption was part of his agitation. His job was to be there for children who were no longer wanted, who had been wished away. There were four now that he had no clue, on any plane above or below, if they were being cared for. Or even if they were alive.

Then there was the actual interruption. Something or someone was getting to these children before him, halting the wish, and blocking him. That sort of power was beyond him.

Below three of the men had come out to the stoop. They stood communing. Jareth rolled onto the balls of his feet as if a slight lean would allow him to hear anything. Again he thought about shifting. But then Stephen would want to accompany him no doubt, and heaven knew what sort of trouble a young apprentice could get themselves into so near humans. The woman came out, holding a child and carried him to a vehicle.

Jareth flung his cape away from him. With a resolute nod, he turned. "Come Stephen. There is nothing more we can do."

In five paces the two men had stepped into the air and vanished.

Stepping from the human plane back into the realm of the fae altered all the senses. Everything to the eye became sharper, shadows were less deep; the nose, no more assaulted by noxious exhaust fumes, could breathe deeply, distinguish better between garbage (no doubt something his goblins had left out) verses the comforting scents of his library. Jareth even figured that his skin felt healthier, more his own and less out of place.

Such changes would normally have relaxed him and he would have thrown his body onto his favorite chaise lounge exhausted, ready for dinner and off to bed. But not this time. He almost wanted a goblin to kick. Even a stray chicken from the hen house would have sufficed. He wanted so very badly to vent his frustration.

Jareth looked at Stephen Nightwalker. The fae had come to him two years ago to learn the art of Jareth's trade: the retrieval and care of wished away children. The High Court had very nearly ordered him to. A grown fae man who no longer dallied with females, ignored rules, and in general failed to engage in any sort of social gossiping, backstabbing, mingling, or other such activities generally viewed as fun and normal, must be in need of some occupation. "It is the High King's opinion that you are in need of an apprentice", translated loosely, "We want to know how you are spending your days, here is an individual you will have to confide in and in turn will report back to us, as discreetly as possible, but we know that you know. Have a nice day."

He rolled his eyes.

And here he was with four botched wishes- oh, the courtiers were going to feast on this. The great Goblin King is loosing his touch, he is becoming inept. Once bested by a mortal it is hard to regain one's footing, even if he has five years to regroup.

Jareth gave himself a little shake. There was no point in going down memory lane. The present was enough of a mess. For starters he needed to get Stephen out his way for the rest of the night.

Rounding his large desk, Jareth said, "There will be plenty to tend to tomorrow. Your familiar enchantment still needs work." Stephen opened his mouth. Jareth hurried on in the most dismissive tone, "Goodnight."

Despite being an absolute nark, Stephen understood his rank. He might not be his king, but Jareth was a high ranking fae and his master. He inclined his head, briefly wished him a goodnight, and was gone.

Unclasping his cape, Jareth leaned on his desk and rubbed his face. Who was messing with his job? He cast his eyes around his study. Floor to ceiling shelves held information on his ilk, the realm of the fae; engravings that depicted powerful creatures. There was even a section on humans, the care of infants. He had read them all throughout the centuries. Thought, surely, there couldn't be much more to learn. Yet here was a problem that went far beyond any of the knowledge he had acquired.

How does one go about catching an individual who can stop a wish? There wasn't a pattern. There wasn't a type of child preferred. A time of day.

He rolled his hand in the air and pulled out a crystal orb. "Okay," he said. "What do I know?" He hefted the orb once, twice. "All four of the children were wished away."

Pulling back his arm he threw the orb. As it arched through air it morphed into a dart and hit the back of his study door. The impaling crack was satisfying. He hefted a second orb. The other times: one was during the day, another in the evening; these last two had been at night.

"Within moments of arriving the wish is interrupted. And I am barred from the child." He let it fly. Crack.

The third orb he rolled around, moving it from his palm to the backside of his hand. "Law enforcement is always involved."

Jareth raised his arm and then slowly lowered it. Not just law enforcement. There was one particular mortal involved in each one. He threw the orb. The splintering of wood followed. "A woman."

There were millions upon millions of women on the mortal plane, the Aboveground. In the city alone there were thousands. Yet as he sat there staring at the last dart he had to caution himself not to jump to any conclusions. The universe was a quirky, wibbly, wobbly, willful minx at times, but surely it wouldn't deal him the same card twice. Not after what happened last time.

Jareth shook himself again. Memory lane was no place to go right now. No.

He very well couldn't even say for certain what this particular woman had looked like. For all he knew she was a brunette with brown eyes and a horrid beauty mark. Possibly with bad high lights.

He sat up straighter at his desk. "Fash, Dink to me," he ordered.

In the middle of the room two bright lights momentarily flashed and out of the space fell two goblins. One adjusted a dainty pair of spectacles on his nose, the other pushed blue hair out of his eyes.

"Greetings sire," bowed Fash. He pushed his glasses back into place.

Dink bowed as well.

"I need you to perform surveillance for me. I'm sending you Aboveground,"

Dink clapped excitedly.

"You are to take some others with you and seek out police stations. Find out which ones employ private consultants, particularly women."

Fash asked a question, "Do you want the women followed?"

"No. Just find out who and if you're able how often they are employed. Report back to me and me alone. Go."


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's note: you will now notice headings bearing names and then chapter notations. Thank you for reviewing. I am a blessed mother of three, these shall hopefully start appearing on a weekly bases given the younglings cooperation. Hopefully._

 _Jareth_

 _2_

A fae is not born with a familiar. It was a learned spell. Faes typically had affinities for certain animals and based on that kinship a familiar was then selected and the fae practiced morphing. Stephen Nightwalker continually tried to convince Jareth that a beetle or a house fly were effective familiars based on their ability to get in and out of tight spaces or hang about unnoticed. Jareth pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, but as I've explained to you before those are also two of the most squashed or swatted species in the animal kingdom. You won't be much good to anyone after several rounds with a rolled up news paper."

Stephen sighed.

"Besides," continued Jareth. "There is nothing dignified to them. You feel yourself drawn to the insect world then narrow in on something unique." He then ordered Stephen to spend the remainder of the day contemplating entomology and all things that crawled about in the dust of the earth. A menial, yet distracting task so Jareth could call his goblins to him once more.

He had spent the remainder of the previous night planning out schemes to catch this meddler. Mortal women were easy to beguile, charm, seduce even, but this one. No. This one was interfering in his job and needed to be caught and taught a lesson. A long, lonely lesson in the most reclusive oubliette, to be followed by a torturous interrogation where he would learn how she was interfering, to what end, and then bit by bit remove the power from her. He had no qualms about the pain it would cause. To even give thought to the fact that the individual in question might not even realize her meddling, meant nothing. He hated what was happening.

One scheme in particular ran through his head repeatedly. One in which that would delight him. There was a dwarf named Hoggle that was forever at his mercy. He'd have the dwarf dressed as a child, complete with baby bonnet, possibly a rattle and a binky shoved in his treacherous mouth. It would be a fitting humiliation. Every few months he saw fit to goad the dwarf. Five years ago he had committed heresy. Now the king's whim was his command. The thought of the dwarf so dressed and set as bait had him chuckling in the darkness.

Now with distractions set aside he was ready to hear what his goblins had learned in the Above. Back in his study he called out, "Goblins, to me!"

Five lights blinked in the air and five figures appeared. No wait. Six figures appeared. One of his goblins held a particularly mangy alley cat in his arms. The confused feline hissed. "Not one of ours," Jareth said and snapped his fingers. The poor animal disappeared. The goblin in turn looked crestfallen. "I don't abide cats," said the king.

Fash adjusted his glasses. "I told you not to," he hissed at his fellow.

"But so soft," lamented the goblin.

Dink patted him on the back.

Jareth rolled his eyes. "To the matter at hand," he said. "Fash what news do you bring me?"

"Well sire, not much I'm afraid." He squinted and squirmed under his king's gaze. "We did as you said, but could not find a pattern."

A red haired goblin spoke up, "There were women, but far and few between."

"Though there was that one word we kept hearing, " said the one that had tried to bring the wayward pet home.

"Pished," said Dink.

"No, more like size-six," said the red head.

"Eye… socket."

"Sky-It."

"Side, hit."

"Sigh…"

Jareth raised his eye brows. "Psychic?" he prompted.

There was a chorus of affirmation.

Jareth steepled his fingers and rested them against his lips. "A psychic?" he repeated. That was a word he hadn't betted on hearing. "Female?"

"Yes," came the reply.

Fash took off his spectacles. "She was all over the city though."

Jareth dismissed his subjects. He had nothing to work with. No place to begin. Nothing to zero in on. He offhandedly regretted vanishing the alley cat- it would have given him something to kick in frustration.

The wish came like a violent tug.

Jareth had sought solace in the deep gardens of the Labyrinth. He used the winding of the path to help bend and stretch the problem in his mind. Summonings were intertwined in to his very being- he knew the pull, the swell of the emotion. A wished away carried with it a strong despair that left an astral back to the source.

This one though ripped through him in such a way he cringed at its urgency. Without a thought he stepped from one plane to the other his mind traveling the trail. He would make it there first. He would find the child. He would perform his duty. And if he caught the infernal meddler in the process all the sweeter.

The trail took him back to the city. A storm was over head. Thunder cracked the air as his foot touched down. Jareth smiled at the accidental dramatics. It fueled his mood. The wished away tugged again. Where? He stepped again from one building to the next. The air swelled with the expectant storm- humid and sticky. Jareth left the roof tops and landed on a sidewalk. Humans walked past him, unseeing, unknowing. Where? The trail went around the corner.

Jareth reached the corner in time to see another bolt of lighting rent the sky above a building. The wished away was inside. A car screeched near by. He started as he noted a woman stumbling from the vehicle. Not this time. He stepped from the corner and reappeared inside the building. He was a landing between levels, a staircase going up and another going down. The air inside was some how thicker, hotter. A small bead of perspiration trickled down his neck as he searched for the trail.

So much despair. This wish was intensely different. It should have made him hesitant. It should have sent off warning bells. But the child; he needed to find the child. The trail went up.

The landing above stretched and divided its self into a long hallway running left and right. Choosing left he hadn't passed more than two doors when he felt the heat wash over him and the air literally stick in his throat. The cough that followed burned. Smoke. The air was thick with the stuff. Coughing he pulled his cape around his face. Torn between safety and duty he scanned the hallway. With the next step came the flames. Door after door suddenly burst open alive with hot licking flames. The alarms that had been pushed aside suddenly rang out in his body. This was not right. This was unnatural.

A clamoring behind him had him turning with his hand raised, magic ready to defend. A dark haired woman was rushing around the opposite end of the corridor banging on doors and calling out. Cautiously Jareth retreated from the inferno. Sweat threatened to sting his eyes.

A messenger bag slapped roughly against her back. Her dark hair clung to her neck and face in moist clumps. "No, no, no," she muttered to herself, flinging her body at the next door.

Unnatural, thought Jareth his stance slacking in shock. Impossible.

"You!" he exclaimed above the threatening din of burning.

The unexpected voice was all it took to still Sarah Williams in her frantic search. "You!" she shot back. Her green eyes momentarily widened, only to then cringe as smoke irritated and burned her retina.

They both coughed.

Jareth's hand was still poised. He wanted to strike out. He wanted to protect. He wanted to run. He wanted to…The thoughts and emotions were too much, mingling with the heat and threat of danger in a most confusing way.

Without warning she ran at him as if she could knock him over.

"What are you doing?" he yelled catching her about the waist. Her breath exhaled sharply the same moment a floor shuddering crash rocked the building.

"Let me go!"

The words burned. The air was becoming painfully thin. Another loud crash. The doors she had seconds before been pushing against were thrown open as more flames fanned out. Sarah actually froze against him in fear, her fingers dung into his arm. Jareth's panic finally got the better of him. They were both in danger.

"Come on!" he yanked her back against his chest and went to raise his cloak protectively. He would pull them from this inferno; deal with her later.

The third crash came from above. Sarah screamed, her body actually turning into him. Jareth pulled on the fabric of the planes, willing his body to remove them from the building. The air changed, but not before a force knocked him in his side blossoming red pain through his ribs. The motion threw off his balance. He was aware of cool, breathable air. The brush of hair across his chin. Then nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

_Sarah_

 _3_

Dizzy. She understood that she should have been afraid of several things: being burned alive, falling to her death, broken bones. There was reason for her to be concerned about safety. But all she could comprehend at the moment was how painfully dizzy she was. The landing had jarred her to the core, sent her sprawling, only half aware of the body her limbs became entangled with. Rolling to her back she lay coughing, wanting more of the clean cool air. Opening her eyes she saw the rough asphalt, a plume of smoke.

Then she saw him.

She shrieked. "Crap!" Her body flinched away as if faced with the greatest danger yet.

When he failed to react, she took a deep breath, and looked again. His blond hair was splayed on the ground. His pale skin was smudged. His body lay supine as if sleeping. Sarah shook her head trying to process what she was seeing. The Gobin King was sprawled on the ground, undignified, dirty, and possibly dead. Gingery she sat up. Why had he been at the building? Why had there been fire? She shook her head again. The movement though only made her dizzier. She held the sides of her head and moaned.

Sirens sounded in the distance.

The burning building. They were witnesses.

Sarah looked at him again.

No, she thought, this won't do at all.

Dragging her messenger bag with her, she scooted near his side. She could see his chest rising and falling. Tentatively she touched his arm. "Jareth," she hissed.

It felt surreal to say his name, to say nothing of the actual situation they found themselves in. She gently shook him. His eyebrows knitted together and his lips ppffed.

"Jareth, come on," she started again. "We've got to move."

In a panic she thought a long string of useless abuses, begging him to open his eyes. Use your magic, she yelled in her thoughts. Reaching for his left arm she noticed the blood. His side was sticky with it, making his black shirt shiny. Sarah stared in disbelief at the wound. His blood. The fae bled.

"No," she said. "No, no, no."

The sirens were definitely closer.

Switching tactics she leaned close and gently slapped his cheeks. Her stomach knotted at the thought of the repercussions. No one batted at the Goblin King. Her heart felt a small vindication. She should just leave him here. He wasn't her problem. But the mundane officers; people who wouldn't know what to do with him were coming. Then the real reason she couldn't just abandon him: he had saved her life. "Jareth," she said again administering a firmer tap. His breathing changed. "Come on. If you can hear me, you have got to get up!"

He coughed and then cringed, his arm going around his middle. "What?" His voice was slurred.

"Get up! It's not safe here! We need to go. Now!"

Something must have gotten through to his subconscious: he gingerly moved to his right and braced himself with his arm.

Sarah spoke encouragement. Her eyes darting wildly from street corner, to burning building, back to him. Ignoring all of her own aches, she helped him to his feet. He sagged and breathed haggardly. "I got you," she said.

Her car was just around the corner. She would get him in her car and drive away, fast. She was aware of the building crumbling, the fire consuming a large portion. But her focus was on getting him to her car. Every other step he seemed to trip.

"Sarah?" he murmured dazedly.

"Thanks and hellos later," she replied, fumbling with her keys and unlocking the passenger door.

The next thing she knew she was gunning the car, and pulling away from the curb. She was vaguely aware of a few onlookers. Then there was the storm that had been brewing: it stirred the night with a warmth that threatened to set the sky on fire. There were at least two corners she went around without looking for oncoming traffic. She hazard only brief halts at a hand full of stop signs. When she spotted the nearly empty parking lot of a gas station she pulled in, selected a spot furthest from the front entrance, and parked.

What in the name of all that was holy had happened? She held the sides of her head.

Next to her the Goblin King mumbled something incoherent.

Sarah leaned against her door, breathing deep. She had gone to the building as she had before to hundreds of different locations, the sensation of a child needing help over whelming her. For the past year she had been doing this. Had met very few dangerous situations. Law enforcement had embraced her gift, showing naught but gratitude. Why had this time been so different? Why had he been there?

She eyed him suspiciously.

Though slumped awkwardly in the passenger seat, his head resting against the window, he still unnerved her. His hair was a good deal longer, falling well past his shoulders. His clothes were still moody in blacks and grays. The pallor of his skin an other wordly pale shade of cream. Still arresting in form and appearance.

Sarah cast her eyes around the parking lot, then glanced at the dash board clock. So little time had past since her world had been turned upside down. She took off her messenger bag, shoving it into the back seat. Then she turned her attention back to Jareth. He was hurt. How badly or exactly how was yet to be determined. She wrestled with herself once again: to help or not to help?

Cautiously she leaned near and tried to see his left side. When that proved fruitless she raised her hand to feel his skin, to feel some sort of life aside from his breathing. Her fingers had barely skimmed the hair on his forehead, when suddenly his right hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

"Hey!" she exclaimed surprise and fear mingling in her gut.

His eyes were opened into two slits. "What," he paused, licked his lips. "What the devil happened?"

"There was a fire. You're hurt."

She wasn't sure if she jerked her arm free or if he had shoved her away, but her hand was back on her side of the car.

Jareth opened his eyes and looked down at himself. "Bloody… bogwater…" He shifted and something that sounded like,"Bumofasnitch," came out through clenched teeth. Looking as if he was attempting to examine his wound, his hands and fingers pulled at the hem of his shirt.

Sarah attempted to offer help. "Here let me."

This time he definitely used forced and flung her hand away. "No. Thank. You."

Sarah looked closer at him: there was a thin film of sweat on his forehead, his skin had changed from cream to ashen. His hand had a tremor. Every breath sounded strained.

"Let me help," she said firmly. "You're freaking bleeding. Besides, I owe you."

He scowled, but resigned himself to her aid.

Leaning over him, smelling the tang of blood and something else that was masculine, she reached on the far left side for the seat's recliner. It jerked as it fell back and caused him to bounce. "Sorry," she said. He looked either ready to vomit or pass out. "Ok, let's take a look."

She raised the hem of his shirt. It stuck briefly to his skin. It wasn't a laceration, but rather a wide burn. The initial bleeding had actually ceased and now clear bodily fluids were attempting to cover the damage. In her peripheral she saw him strain to look down. "This is pretty bad," she said. "I don't know what to do. Should I call a doctor? What?"

Jareth closed his eyes again. "Are we some where safe?"

Sarah glanced around again. "We're in a parking lot."

"Parking lot?" Was that a grimace or a smirk? Sarah wasn't sure."I need…natural medicine."

"Natural?"

"No human medicine."

"What about magic? Can't you heal yourself?"

Jareth's eyes were drooping. They tried to focus on her face, but instead slid shut.

"Jareth? Shot! No, Jareth!" She touched his cheek. Panic swelled in her. "Ok, we'll get some where safe. I'll take care of this. Hold on!"

Some where safe. Sarah knew of only one place that would be just that. Her private sanctuary: her home. She lived in a small apartment on the other side of the city. Once there she had friends she could call on to help with natural medicine, medicine for fae. As she turned out of the parking lot she became aware of how much her wrists hurt. Home. Home would be safe.

 _Author's Notes: for those of you who are familiar with some of my other works, I want you to know that I wrote an afterward for "Waste Not, Want Not." Cheers my darlings!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Sarah_

 _4_

The rain began as they arrived at her apartment. Maneuvering around shrubbery and sidewalk cracks with a weak full grown man leaning on you was using up the last of Sarah's reserves. When the droplets first touched her skin she welcomed the cool water, sweet relief from the oppressive humidity. Her ground floor apartment sheltered them as the light sprinkle turned into an earnest down pour.

In the dark she led him across her small livingroom to the couch. "Lie down." As if she needed to have even suggested it: he collapsed and said nothing. She stood there catching her breath, all of her ignored scrapes, bumps, and bruises making themselves known. She had ran several flights of stairs, had been thrown from an inferno, driven like a mad lady, and had basically carried one hundred and seventy pounds. She looked down at him. All right, maybe only a hundred and fifty. And he still needed her.

She sagged and braced herself against a small arm chair.

Natural medicine. That's what he had said he needed. She thought about pouches of dried herbs, preserved bunches of flowers, tinctures in neat little rows- she had nothing like that. There was a good deal she educated herself on about the fae, but medicinal needs? No.

But she knew some individuals who did.

Lightening lit up her apartment. Moving from the livingroom she paused and switched on the kitchen light, and then proceeded to her bedroom. From her dresser she removed a velvet pouch with draw strings. Pulling the cinched mouth open wide she slid out a sizable oval mirror. The reflective glass was framed in a simple vine pattern of silver. With another deep breath she touched her fingers to the glass. "I need you," she said out loud.

The surfaced shimmered.

"Come on, come on," she muttered.

She touched it a second time, as one would redial a phone number. This time following the shimmer the glass surface turned a milky grey and moved as if liquid. Slowly a face appeared: a dwarf, gnarled and tanned with deep set brown eyes and bushy eyebrows. He was in the middle of wiping his forehead with the back of a dirty sleeve, "Hello there, sorry was outside tending to one of Didymus' trees," began the dwarf.

Sarah spoke up, "Hoggle I-"

"Silly fox let's them over grow so,"

"Hoggle!" She spoke sharply. The little eyes grew into surprised discs. "I need your help."

"Sarah," he said her name tenderly. "What has happened? You're a right mess."

Sarah had not given much thought to her appearance. The thought crossed her mind that she probably did look quite the state: hair falling out of her pony tale, dirt or soot on her cheeks. She plunged forward.

"Listen to me, ok? I'm alright-,"

"The bog you are!"

"Really, I am. I have a big problem at the moment." She began walking back to the livingroom. Jareth still lay on the couch by all appearances in a unconscious. "I need your help. If you had a burn what would you do to help heal it?"

Hoggle squinted. "Make a poultice for it, s'pose." A pause. "Why?"

"Out of what exactly? The poultice: what would it be made of?"

"Sarah Williams, why?"

Sarah only hesitated a moment. Hoggle could very well do one of two things: scornfully refuse to help Jareth, the man responsible for his days spent in the Bog of Eternal Stench, or act out of loyalty to her and be of use. Based on the dwarf and king's past interactions she sincerely hoped his loyalty was stronger than his pride. "Because of him," she said and turned the mirror towards the couch.

Hoggle gasped quietly.

"Tell me what to do Hoggle," she said.

There was a lapse of silence. "Pppff, should be able to heal his'self," came the curt reply.

"No." She faced the mirror. "He said he needed medicine."

The poor dwarf seemed to wage an internal battle. Sarah felt moisture sting her eyes. With great effort she blinked rapidly: she would not cry over him.

Hoggle heaved a breath. "Right. First you should be applying a cool compress. Do you have any Witch Hazel? No? Aloe?"

She was carrying the mirror around with her. She had retrieved a wash clothe and was running cool water. Every herb he suggested she just didn't have. "I have a bunch of tea," she prompted.

A second voice higher and brisker spoke up, "Tea? Is our lady having tea?"

It was Sir Dydimus. His little fox head leaned in around the edges of the mirror. There was a brief moment of sputtering and concern, half asked questions, and worried exclamations as both Hoggle and Sarah explained the situation.

"My lady," said Dydimus. "Doest thou have any Chamomile?"

Sarah had set the mirror on the arm chair angled so her friends could see her. She had the cool wash clothe in hand and was pressing it against Jareth's skin. There was a small, rational part of her brain that was going through the situation on a different level. Jareth, King of the Goblins, was on her couch in her apartment. Her fingers were touching him. This rational section pointed out to her that this male presence though dirty and hurt was still in fact very male. She registered abdominal muscles, blonde chest hair, a navel: all very human things that she had never associated with him before.

"Chamomile?" she repeated looking away from Jareth. "Yes. I have Chamomile tea bags."

"Good. That will aid thee. Judging by the size of this burn though thou wilt need several bags to make the proper application. Brother," he continued speaking as Sarah dashed to her kitchen. "do not scowl so at our prostrate king on yonder couch."

Hoggle made some grunting sound in response.

Sarah found the tea, and bringing a bowl of water with her came to the couch. She tore open four bags of the herbal tea and poured their contents into the bowl of water. Using her fingers she made a paste. After removing the wash clothe, she began to apply the mixture to the burn. Jareth, lost some where in sleep, sighed and rolled his head to one side.

Sarah felt the anxiety again, the brief sting of tears. "Will he be alright?" she asked quietly.

Hoggle humphed. "Give the rat the night and he'll heal."

"Brother," chastised Dydimus, his good eye casting a sideways glance. To Sarah he said, "With the aid of poultice and rest, his magic will regenerate and he will heal himself. Thou mayest rest for now, my lady. How did you two come to be like this?"

Sarah inhaled. The Chamomile was calming. The sound of rain was comforting. Her hand pressed against this strange man's skin was unnerving. She took her hand away and pressed the wash clothe to it instead. "I felt a child," she told them. "As I have hundreds of times before. This time though… it was like there was this dark energy attached to it." She told them about the strange fire that seemed hellbent on devouring her and the building. Then about the utter shock of seeing Jareth there in the building as well. "He pulled me from the building, but something went wrong." She indicated the wound.

With more assurances that she was fine, that she hadn't suffered anything too traumatic, she told her friends goodbye. Hoggle needed further convincing not to cross over and sit with her, to guard against the would be wiles of the king. She slipped the mirror back into the velvet pouch and returned it to her room, leaving it on top of her dresser. Now left alone with this fae man, this King of the Goblins, Jareth, she doubted her conviction. Yes she was alright physically, but mentally she was shaken. Emotionally she was drained. What happens when he wakes up? What happens if he doesn't?

"I need a shower," she mumbled out loud.

Jareth's head turned in his sleep.

She went back in her room. From a separate drawer in her dresser she pulled out a longer pouch also velvet, but secured with an intricate knot. She hefted the pouch. For five years she had gleaned much about the fae, including how to protect herself from their magic. She took it into the bathroom with her.


	5. Chapter 5

_Jareth_

 _5_

The little scab of a dwarf, Hoggle was dressed as a nurse. In place of a swelling bosom was a horrendous amount of chest hair. The gown was also too short, revealing legs banded with varicose veins. Jareth wanted to tell him how ugly he was, to demand he not come any where near him with that cold stethoscope, but found that he couldn't speak.

"Al's right doc," said the dwarf pulling up a face mask.

With a high pitched "Ha-ha" a bushy tailed fox leaped on top of him as if mounting a pony for some side show performance. He was an odd mixture of knight and pirate complete with eye patch. He brandished a scalpel. "I don't want to have to hurt you," he stated simply.

Jareth felt his eyes go wide and his pulse quicken, but his body would not cooperate. What were these creatures about? Did they not know he was their king? He would have them all severely punished if they continued to thus assault his person.

Hoggle placed a gnarled hand against Jareth's forehead and the little fox scurried forward...

…Jareth awoke with a gasp. His eyes darted around expecting the canine doctor and scalpel. A weak gray light showed him that he was alone, stretched out on a couch. All of his limbs felt stiff and heavy as if he hadn't moved for many hours. His skin felt itchy. His clothes smelled smokey. What had happened? Sitting up he winced and held his side. The pain brought back the memory of the fire. That's right he had been in a burning building; he had gone to retrieve a wished away. Then she had shown up.

Sarah. Sarah Williams. The meddlesome, troublesome, bothersome, all around stupid girl had been at the building. She had been there interfering with his job. Jareth scowled. She was also responsible for this unnecessary pain in his side. She had put herself in harms way; tried to deter him with a helpless damsel act from the fact that she was making him a laughing stock among his peers. When he found her again she would pay for all of it.

He focused in the gray light. He was in a sparse apartment some where in the Above. The couch he was on took up the vast majority of the the room. Gently sitting up he swung his feet to the ground. He realized that his boots were gone. On the floor in front of him were two bowls: one held a wash clothe , the other after a sniff proved to be wet Chamomile. Someone had been watching after him. How long had he been healing? The burn mark was still tender. Searching within himself for a moment, weighing how much magic he had in reserve, he found himself lacking. A day, perhaps less was all he had used to heal. He would require at least another twentyfour hours to feel fully rejuvenated. To the matter at hand though: he needed to know where he was.

Taking a few cautious steps, Jareth stopped and listened. Someone was talking. He passed an arm chair: thrown across the back was his cape. In the seat was a messenger bag. No, he thought to himself. Twice in so short a time? Perfect. He smiled, thin lipped and humorless. The voice was clearly Sarah's: her tone and cadence sparking a strong reaction deep in his gut. Anger gave him energy. He'd bully her into believing he was far stronger than he currently was. He'd get her back to the Underground, lock her away, and savor the agonizing wait he'd have her endure.

At the door he paused. There was another voice. She was conversing with none other than Hoggle. Feeling a surge of adrenaline he pushed the door open. The first thing he saw was the back of Sarah's head, her long, dark hair falling over her shoulders and a white tank top. She was sitting on the edge of a bed holding an oval mirror. The glass inside held the dwarf's face. "How's he doing today?" he was asking.

"Oh well enough," replied Jareth from the doorway.

A look of fear and surprise crossed the little scab's face before he vanished from the mirror.

Jareth watched as Sarah jerked around, her expression equally surprised as well as… Now what was that? Relief? She stood up dropping the mirror onto the bed. Her green eyes were wide. He had always liked her eyes. Shame. Those eyes would eventually learn to loath him.

"You're awake," she said.

"I am."

"Are you… are you doing better?"

"Much."

His crisp answers had her nerves rankled. One moment her legs seemed to want to move near him, only to then have her swaying back. Good. He wanted her confused. He wanted her to feel vulnerable.

"And how do you feel?"

"Annoyed." Placing hands to hips, he moved into the room. There was a full size bed, a dresser, and a desk. He noted the few personal touches: a framed photograph, a small collection of books. He watched as she scurried to the far side of the bed as if the mattress was enough to safe guard her against him. He continued, "Ill tempered. Put out. I feel a good many irritable things more, if you must know."

Sarah swallowed. "Weird way to say thank you," she said.

"Oh so I should be feeling gratitude should I?"

"I got you to safety, tended your burn. Yeah, I think a little gratitude might be in order."

He took several more steps. "Don't count on any. Not after the trouble you've caused."

"Trouble that I've caused?" she asked. Her current state reminded him of a mouse huddled in the last corner of a shallow hole.

"So. Much. Trouble." He ticked off each word for emphasis. "But then again you always were one for meddling." Her brow creased. Yes, there was the discomfort he was going to relish. "You have interfered in my affairs for the last time, Sarah Williams."

Here he paused and slowly raised a hand as if preparing to call forth one of his crystals, to gather some magic. He knew dang well he wouldn't be able conjure anything too impressive. Empty threats the lot of it. His knees felt unsteady. Even his head was a little light. Not to mention his over all undignified appearance. But the motion worked. She paled and her lips fell open as the orb materialized. And then, the opposite affect took over: her cheeks reddened ever so slightly.

"I think," she began to say, her eyes narrowing. "You had better explain yourself, Jareth. I haven't a clue what you're on about."

Jareth pretended to reconsider his raised hand. "I am not required to explain anything."

She moved further along the bed. "Neither one of us wants to do anything rash."

"Oh quite the contrary Sarah. I want to do hundreds of rash things in quick succession. To your person, no less."

"You can't push me around Jareth- I won't allow it. I'm not some silly girl any more."

He sent the bubble to his finger tips and grinned. "No you very well aren't."

If he had been honest with himself, Jareth would have realized that five years had been very good to Sarah. The lack of young girl innocence was replaced with a woman's charm. The mundane clothes she wore complimented the change: blue jeans that hugged curved hips, the tank top tight over her breasts. Had he not have been so angry, he probably would have been very much aroused at her older beauty.

His grin lingered far longer than she was comfortable with. "Jareth," her voice warned.

"Enough of this!" he exclaimed tossing the bubble in the air.

At the same moment she made a dash for the pillow at the foot of the bed. Jareth hardly had time to understand what she was doing. In the next moment her arm had shot out and she was pointing a small knife at him. The bubble popped instantly. Jareth's mild light headedness actually turned into a full dizzy spell. He ground his teeth and fought the urge to shrink back.

"My, my," he managed to say without flinching. He lowered his hand. "Cold iron. I'm impressed."

"I did try to warn you. You can't bully me."

Jareth eyed the blade disdain apparent on his face. Nasty stuff cold iron; deadly to all fae. More bluffing. "You mean to do me harm then Sarah? Hmm? You think one little blade will be enough to stay me?"

"I know what I have. Now back off!"

Directing him with her out stretched arm, she backed him out of her bedroom. Jareth went. He might very well be incredibly pissed off, but he also knew he was weak. It goaded him. Made his pride hurt even more. But even a healthy fae didn't do battle with cold iron. He found himself back by the couch. Honestly all he wanted was to sink to the cushions, but he would not give her that satisfaction.

"Now what exactly do you think I have done to you and your job? I have been nothing but helpful and… generous to you here lately."

"Generous? Helpful?" he bit back. "Oh yes, so conveniently helpful. I wouldn't have been injured had you stayed well out of matters that needn't concern you. Interfering with a wished away! Really now, Sarah." He watched her face: her expression slacked. "Wished away, yes, there's a phrase that should give you pause."

"Someone said the right words?" Her eyes went very far away. "You mean to say that child last night was a wished away?"

Jareth raised an eyebrow. "Yes. As if you didn't know."

"The right words…" she murmured again. Intrigued Jareth watched as she went some where very far away inside herself. Her face went blank and her eyes searched the floor. Slowly she shook her head. "No. Impossible." Her eyes focused on him once more. "There couldn't possibly be that many."

"Four."

"What?"

"Four is hardly a large number."

"Four what?"

"Children."

"I've helped far more than just four children."

Jareth finally sat down. Maybe it was the fact that he was still healing or perhaps it was the cold iron muddling his brain, but this conversation was becoming more and more nonsensical. But he couldn't hold it together very well for much longer, not without further rest and some sustenance. "Do you think, you could at least sheath that unholy thing?" he asked indicating the blade.

From her back pocket she took out a velvet pouch. "You so much as snap your fingers in my direction though," she threatened. She slid the knife inside, but still held it in her hand. She seemed to consider something. "Apparently there has been a bit of a misunderstanding. I help children, Jareth. I save them from neglect, hunger, abandonment: that is my job. And I have performed this service for hundreds of children. Not just four."

"Hundreds?" It was his turn to show surprise.

She nodded. "You have your four. I have my hundreds. Feeling a little petty now? Still want to be rash about all this?"

Wearily Jareth shook his head. No, he didn't very well want to do any of that now.


	6. Chapter 6

_Jareth_

 _Six_

Hundreds of children? He thought on this revelation as he sat on the couch. He had only felt the pull of a wished away four times in the last six months. Still though the fact was that she had been there at each four. Her job and his had over lapped. Was she sensing something he wasn't? Was she in possession of some magical aid? He recalled the mirror he had seen her conversing with Hoggle through. There was the very real possibility that his more compromised subjects were educating her, perhaps even aiding her. She also knew about cold iron. That was certainly not every day mundane knowledge. It was generally believed that iron in any form was detrimental to a fae. It had to be pure though, absolutely untainted to work. And she had a cold iron knife. Not something one could pick up at one's convenience.

From the small kitchen he could hear the clank of dishware. Outside there was the drizzle of rain. Sarah had asked if he was hungry. Even in the heat of an argument she had managed to be gracious.

Clank. Clank.

Of course then there was the other matter to consider: she had saved his life. He fingered the edge of his shirt: it was crusted and stiff where his blood had dried. Had she chosen to she could have left him unconscious, wounded, and at the mercy of anyone who found him. There was a fuzzy memory of her hauling him to his feet, being in a car. He nudged the bowl of Chamomile with his toe.

Of course he had also saved her life, pulled her to safety. She had fallen with him though. Probably hurt herself in the process. He hadn't considered that had he? No. Just gone on like some ruffled rooster, hellbent on holding her to five year old assumptions.

He stood up, straightening his shirt and tucking it in. Anger forgotten, replaced with curiosity he went into the small kitchen. Sarah was at the stove with a small frying pan. Next to her lay the velvet pouch that held the knife. Still on guard- he actually admired her forethought. Hated the power the weapon held over him, detested it, but her actions spoke volumes about knowledge and maturity. He watched as she awkwardly moved from stove to fridge, a slight limp in her gait. She had hurt herself.

"It's not much," she said reaching for a carton of eggs. "But it's the best I can do."

"It's fine." He noted the way she cradled the container against her chest, her wrist was sore. Against better judgment he stepped close to her. "Here." He took the eggs and set them on the counter. Taking her hand in his, ignoring her half formed questions, he gently squeezed her wrist. "It's sprained," he observed. What little magic he had in reserve, he portioned out a small measure, and passed it from him to her. Her skin warmed under his hand. It wasn't "sorry" verbalized, but he had never been very good at saying that word.

"Thank you," she said removing her wrist from his hand. She flexed her fingers.

"And your hip?"

"Oh." She bounced gently against the counter as he reached for her waist. Jareth couldn't help but smirk. "That's, um, not necessary."

Hovering near, Jareth let his hands fall away. "Suit yourself."

"Do you," she turned away, tucking hair behind her ears. "I mean… is there a way you like them?"

Jareth tilted his head to the side quizzically.

"Your eggs- do you have a preference?"

"Fried is fine." He swallowed. Stepping back he said, "By the by, I never thanked you for your services. Very likely, you saved my life"

She cracked an egg. "Shame the same couldn't be said about your shirt."

There was an exchange of smiles.

The thought occurred to Jareth that Sarah had been quite intimately acquainted with his clothing per recent events. His thoughts tripped and stumbled upon themselves, corrected their path: she had been intimately acquainted with his person. This brought on a most confusing array of emotions. To stop himself from saying anything he rubbed his face.

The air filled with the sizzle of the frying pan. "You're welcome to shower," Sarah said. "…that is if you're still here…after we eat."

He nodded. "We shall see. You and I have a fair amount to discuss about yesterday."

She flipped the egg. "About that. What was that all about yesterday, especially the fire?"

He shrugged.

"It wasn't natural," she remarked quietly.

"And how about you and I both answering a wished away? That's hardly, as you put it, natural."

"I didn't know. I swear it Jareth." She raised the spatula as if taking an oath.

"Not an inkling? Not even a, hmm, this feels oddly familiar?" he pressed. "Ignorance will not be a satisfactory answer Sarah. Four times you have been present, interrupted a summons, bared me from a wished away. I want to know why."

"I- dang it-," She returned her attention back to the frying egg as a slight burned smell filled the kitchen. Quickly she plated it before it became inedible. "What do you want me to say? Sorry? Okay, I'm sorry for being sensitive to my fellow man and trying to do the right thing. Happy?"

"No," he returned her sarcasm with curtness. "Perhaps you should relate how this ability of yours came about."

She watched the next batch of eggs. She shrugged. "I…just…do."

"Sarah."

"I don't think the how is important."

Again he spoke her name, "Sarah," filling it with impatience.

"Look it's not any of your business now is it? What- you think after five years you can just show up and start demanding I explain things? It just so happens that, I'm not required to explain things either."

Jareth stared at her. The conversation had abruptly shifted. He attempted to redirect it, "I'm trying to sort this out: summons have been-,"

She interrupted, "For the past five years you want to know how many 'summons' I've had? Let's just call them what they are, shall we. Five years." Another plate came out from a cabinet. "Not understanding how or why. But feeling this overwhelming, near suffocating need to respond to a child in need. Did I go banging on your castle door demanding answers?" Eggs went to plate. "Did I show up suddenly and get all personal with you? No!" She shoved a plate at him and ordered him to eat. Picking up her own, she moved into the livingroom.

Jareth stood looking at his food. Hunger got the better of him and he took several bites before considering an answer. He had cautioned himself not to jump to any conclusions about this situation. Had sat at his desk in his library, his sanctuary, and told himself that were many different reasons this could be happening. Of course he had never expected the universe to be so dastardly, throwing him back together with the one woman who made the impossible bloody well possible.

By the Moon, eggs had never tasted so good, he fleetingly thought.

"You could have," he said to the kitchen.

From the other room came Sarah's loud exclamation, "What?"

He heaved a deep breath. He sat his plate on the counter and turned towards the livingroom. She was sitting at a small breakfast table tucked in the far corner. "You could have. Perhaps then this," he indicated the space between them, "wouldn't be so difficult."

She humphed.

"You're telling me that this ability of yours started after I returned you home?"

"Yes. More or less."

"What does that mean?"

"Look, I don't like talking about it."

"I think it needs to be talked about."

"It has no bearing on what happened yesterday."

"Oh it doesn't? You blame me, don't you?" He moved to the table. "You think I did something to you." He gripped the back of a chair. "Trust me, girly, anything I might have given you was negated the moment you rejected my offer."

She leaned forward. "Liar."

Jareth breathed for a beat. "I beg your pardon?"

"Liar, liar, frickin' pants on fire."

"Careful Sarah. Need I remind you that your little toy is on the counter?" She started, realized her knife was absent, and made to move out of her chair. He stepped in front of her. "I don't think so."

"You…" Sarah was breathing hard. Her cheeks twitched, her skin had turned a bright red. She slammed her hands on the table. "You changed me! I don't know how, I don't know why, but you, Goblin King, changed me. I was never the same. Maybe I figured this gift, this power was a way to redeem myself for what I did to my brother, but I knew, always at the heart of the matter, that it was your fault."

"I offered you a lot of things, Sarah, but the ability to feel a wished away was not one of them. Always with the accusations, always the villain. By the Moon, you changed me too!"

Everything had gone L-shaped again. They were angry at each other when they should be working together. Jareth sat in the chair that moments before he had gripped in his frustration. "I don't know how you can feel these children," he said evenly. "You shouldn't have been there."

"And the fire?" she asked avoiding his eyes. "What about that?"

He shook his head. "That was a first for me. Perhaps I should take my leave now. We should both have time to think."

Jareth stood. The food had helped. He hoped that he would be able to send himself home, that once there he could sort through things. The goblins had probably considered the last day a mini holiday- the state things would be in! And Stephen- well, he had probably spent some time at court. Sarah didn't rise. Instead she used her fork to poke at some left over egg.

"That's probably best," she agreed.

In three steps he was gone.


	7. Chapter 7

_Sarah_

 _7_

One minute after he left, Sarah regretted it. She should not have gotten so angry. There had been so much she had wanted to ask him, so much she had wanted to discuss. Instead one little probing question had sent her spiraling out of control.

Not that he had helped set the proper tone for a discussion. Coming at her like some bat out of hell, accusing her of tampering with his job, threatening her with his crystals. Just so like him to set her on edge. She should have just been blatantly honest.

Yes, she thought, just told him that you still think about his offer five years on; that you some times day dream about what might have been; and that you harbored some small hope that he'd appear one day and tell you that yes, he had given you this one last gift. And together you both will help save the innocent, like two superheroes….

His ego would have loved that. Sarah rolled her eyes.

Five years. Everything had changed after that night. Not just the way she treated her brother, they were close now like two best friends, but more in how she reacted to the world. Suddenly it was a richer place with depths that suggested dimensions upon dimensions. Richer in wonder as well as in terror. It had started out small at first: rescuing strays, being on a first name basis with the local pet shelter. It had seemed very natural to care these unwanted animals. Then there was the runaway. That sense had started her senior year of high school: a junior girl had gone missing, something about being bullied. Sarah had seen her plain as day, riding a bus to the next major city over. But all inside her head. Unnerved by the strong mental image, Sarah had called in an anonymous tip and watched it all play out from the safety of the sidelines. It had only grown stronger from there.

Now post high school she used the pull to aid local law enforcement. They called her a psychic. She would all of the sudden call in or show up demanding one of the officers follow her. So many children. So much despair.

It had also proved to be decently lucrative. She paid her rent, groceries, and all necessities with rewards, donations, and the occasional actual payment for services rendered.

All and this and more she could have, perhaps should have explained to Jareth. No, instead she had offered him fried eggs.

She grabbed the sides of her head, frustrated. Bringing it up would only drag that night back out, front and center. The wish, the Labyrinth, the confrontations. His offer. Her rejection. So much that she wasn't ready to deal with. Keeping it tucked away, layered in a small day dream was so much easier.

Instead she had confided in her friends throughout the years: Hoggle and Sir Dydimus both knew the extent of her gift. Though neither could really explain it. Hoggle always seemed suspicious that the king had done something to her, slipped her something while in the Labyrinth. "How?" she usually asked when these accusations came up. "I never ate anything while there." Hoggle would shrug, mumble something and usually wander off.

As if his ears were burning, Sarah heard the hum of her oval mirror.

"Whew! You're alive!" he breathed when she answered his call. "Is he, uh, still around?"

Sarah smiled, a practiced patient smile when it came to the dwarf's shortcomings. "No, he's gone. For now."

"He's a'coming back?"

Sarah looked over her shoulder at her now empty couch. "We agreed there were some things that needed to be talked about. But…we're giving each other some time to think."

"So no ideas about the fire, eh?"

"No. I'm thinking of asking around, maybe calling the local precinct, see if anything unusual was reported. And to," she paused, taking a deep breath, a realization settling in the pit of her stomach. "to see if there was a child."

Hoggle rubbed his nose thoughtfully. "You didn't actually find one?"

She shook her head. "Look I should get going."

"Sarah." Hoggle's voice was quiet. "Be careful. You know I'm here, if you need me…" His voice trailed off. When he spoke again it his voice was all concern, "Just promise me that you won'ts do or take or eat anything you're not sure about. There's magic about alls this."

"I know. I feel it too. Thanks Hoggle." She touched the mirror and he faded.

Sarah sat on her bed and mulled things over. The safe and responsible thing would be to pick up the phone, call one of the detectives whom she trusted, and rest. But no. She wanted to see the building herself, examine it now without panic clouding her judgment. She slipped into a light jacket to protect her from the rain that still drizzled. Into her messenger bag along with her ID, wallet and emergency cell phone, she also put a pill box filled with sea salt and her knife. That last item felt odd. She had never traveled with it before. Grabbing her keys she went out into the day.

The storm was still lingering. Rain that should have been refreshing, now felt soggy. Tree boughs hung low. Any blooms that had been present were now matted, their soft petals collapsing in on themselves. Driving in her car, Sarah tried not to let the weather give her any false premonitions.

Finding her way back to the building required some guess work. In the throws of responding to the summons she had blindly followed the pull. Once at the gas station she had stopped at with Jareth, she took several wrong turns before she found the correct street. The building was there, or rather what was left of the building. Nearly all of the top stories had collapsed down. Yellow police tape surrounded nearly the entire block.

Parking by the curb Sarah studied the street. Most of the buildings were old businesses, half of which were not even operational. There wasn't a condo, an apartment, or anything resembling a hovel. Not a place one would expect to find anybody living. Yet this was where the pull had brought her. From her glove box, she pulled out a flash light. Time to get a closer look.

Walking down a side alley she found the place where her and Jareth had landed in a heap. She half expected to see bloodied owl feathers scattered around. There was nothing out of the ordinary though: a trash bin, some soggy boxes. Checking to make sure no one was paying attention she ducked under the police tape, and went in through an opening. Aside from the collapsed rubble, she noticed immediately how charred everything was. The fire had been incredibly hot. And fast. One moment she had been mounting the stairs, hardly noticing any smoke, and then -whoosh- everything had gone up in flames.

If there had been anyone else in the building, they would not have survived.

Sarah shuddered.

There had been one other time when she had not arrived soon enough. One other time, when confused by her gift, she had not been there for a child. One time. And the grief, the loss had been almost unbearable. She had trouble sleeping for a week. She closed her eyes and tried to forgive herself again. The guilt she carried from that night never really left her alone. The possibility of being too late once again nearly brought her to tears.

With a resigned sigh she brought herself back to the present.

The gray day made the shadows deeper. She clicked on the flash light. She passed what was left of the staircase. Aside from the building material- support beams, plaster, wiring, the usual- there was hardly any indication that the place had been furnished. It gave one the impression the place had been empty, perhaps even condemned before the fire. When she saw the markings on a piece of dry wall she at first assumed it was graffiti.

"Odd," she murmured running her flash light over it.

It was the same mark over and over again: triangles in neat little rows. She moved her flash light further down, past a badly burned section, and found the pattern again. As far as she could tell the triangles bordered most of the ground level.

Taking another step her foot knocked over something glass. Picking it up she saw it was a small corked bottle, empty now, and its label badly burned. Curious she examined the ground in front of her. Nothing. At least there aren't any chalk outlines, she thought putting the bottle in her messenger bag. She stared at the wall again, committing the pattern to memory, and went out the way she came.

Back at her apartment she called the local precinct and asked for one of the officers she knew, Peter Goldsmith. They had worked together before. Her calling would not be viewed as out of the ordinary. When she asked about the fire, he said it had probably been an insurance scam. "So there wasn't anyone inside?" she asked.

"Our guys went over the whole building. No one. Why? Do you think otherwise?"

"I," she paused choosing her words carefully. Her reputation had to be considered. "I wanted to be sure. Thank you Officer Goldsmith."

"Any time Miss Williams." She hung up.

The following two days were a welcome quiet. Sarah got it into her head that her entire apartment needed to be cleaned. When she found herself flipping her mattress she wondered if she were having a premonition of company. She knew that Jareth could very well make himself known at any moment, but this wasn't for him. No. This wasn't for any one person. Yellow cleaning gloves on, she tackled her bathroom, even cleaning the dust that had settled behind the toilet. No this was for herself.

Hoggle had mentioned magic. Sarah didn't doubt its presence. She had enough experience around the fae to know when something felt different, when the air seemed thin or smells were richer. For the most part she accepted it. It existed, plain and simple. But so far in her experience she had only come into contact with Seelie magic: typically harmless though very mischievous. This time though, this magic felt different, heavier. Pausing in the middle of the living room, vacuum in hand, Sarah wondered if black magic was at work. What was the other court referred to as? The Unseelie.

She turned off the vacuum, unnerved by this thought. Clean girl, she told herself shaking her head and turning the machine back on, get rid of the bad mojo.

That night she fell asleep with the scents of lemon and disinfectant heavy in the air. Outside the rain had finally ceased, a steady drip from the ledge of the roof lulled her eyes closed. One moment she'd be on the verge of a dream, the next she would rise to the surface of consciousness too warm in her tshirt and shorts. She'd kick blindly at the sheet and roll over. Moments later she'd find herself struggling to pull the sheet back up as her skin would break out in goose bumps from a cold draft.

The pull of a child came upon her as if someone had knocked her in the stomach. Dazed she sat up, sleep hanging about her like a spider's web. Get up, she told her self, put some pants on, shoes. You've got to hurry. Get to the child!

Pants. A pair of flip-flops. Messenger bag. She opened the front door and felt it jerk out of her hand. The dead bolt engaged by its self. "Uh?" She yanked again.

"You're not going out tonight," said a voice behind her.

She spun around, her eyes struggling to focus. Light through the curtains barely illuminated a blonde head and two shiny obsidian iris. "Dang it! Jareth!" she exclaimed, letting out a rough breath. "Let me out."

"Not tonight," he replied.

"But I have to! There's a child,"

"I know."

"Then you know what I need to do." She tried the handle. "Stop it!"

"Listen to me," he said coming near. "This one, doesn't it feel similar to the other night?"

Sarah huffed. "I don't care. The child- I have to go!"

He reached for her arm and sternly said her name. "Calm down and examine yourself," he ordered her. "In the pit of your stomach. Deep."

The pull was near over whelming. Desperate. She struggled against it, past the initial feeling. Too incessant. Almost as if the child was dying and reviving over and over again; swallowing blackness, only to awake to fight off the blackness. It was the same as before. She felt Jareth's hand flex on her arm. "Still a child," she said. She met his eyes. "I can't just ignore it."

He shook his head. "Neither can I. Only one of us need go. You will stay here and wait for me to return."

She gaped in surprise. "I don't think so. I'm going with you."

"And put both of us in possible danger? I just finished healing, I'd rather not take such risks so soon."

She grabbed a fist full of cloak. Her eyebrows crossed in what she hoped was an intimidating fashion. She'd rather not harm him, flash her knife at him. But if he insisted on being so stubborn, she'd do it. "You don't know anything about the risks I've taken. By myself. Now, I'm coming too."

He regarded her for a moment. Glancing down at her fist he said, "Very well. But we do this my way. We travel by magic."

His hand on her arm. Her hand wrapped in his cloak. They were standing close together. So close that Sarah could tell he wore a sort of armor beneath his cape. Something like an inverted cycle was on his chest. It stirred a memory. That night five years ago he had worn an outfit so very similar. She relaxed her hold and took a small step back. "How do we travel by magic?"

He inclined his head. She definitely saw him smile. "Like so."

His cloak came to life and wrapped her in its dark fabric. She felt herself folded against him. It happened quick. Instinctively her arms went around him as she felt her body shift, preparing herself for what felt like a fall. Then her breath was taken away as she felt her feet leave the ground and a wind blow over her. She blinked in surprise. A dark shadow passed in front of her eyes, followed by a haphazard succession of colors. She blinked again. The colors changed from horizontal to vertical. Some where buried under the blur she felt the tug of the summons. Their bodies seemed to shift through space, following the invisible tether.

As soon as it started, it came to a stop. She blinked a third time and stared wide eyed at the cityscape where her apartment had been moments before.

"Careful," she heard Jareth say, his mouth close to her head. "We are precariously high up."

They were on a ledge of a building. There was a stream of steady traffic below, head lights and traffic lights putting on a show. She heard the honk of a horn.

Her knees felt weak. She held onto him. Felt his hands on her waist. His cloak fell over both of them as if they were peering out through shadowed curtains. A fully rejuvenated fae was fascinating. "That," she took a deep breath, "was amazing!"

He chuckled. He helped her turn so she could see better. "You still feel the pull?"

She nodded.

"Do you see it?"

Her eyes looked over the buildings, adjusting to the light. She spotted something hazy, an astral trail that shimmied through a thoroughfare further along. "There." She pointed. Had she always been able to see it? No. It had always been a feeling, a pull at her being. Not this visible trail.

The cloak gathered around them again and the air moved. She tensed expecting the cacophony of colors. Only this time they levitated and began a descent to a lower building. The night moving around her was beautiful. She wished that matters weren't pressing, that she could enjoy this sensation. Her feet touched a roof top. She felt his hands leave her waist.

Jareth stepped near the ledge and knelt. He beckoned her near. At his side she followed his gaze: there were flashlights dancing inside a building. The astral trail went right through the front door. Sarah began to stand. Roughly Jareth pulled her down.

"But, this child," she started to protest.

This close to him she could see his stern expression, his two toned pupils alive and bright. "The trail is still active. Remember I can feel it too. I would like nothing more than to swoop down and make sure this innocent life is safe, but," he paused and nodded to the building below. He shook his head. "This isn't right."

"Alright. What do we do?"

She watched as the beams of light came together in one room in particular. Next to her Jareth sniffed. His body weight shifted and he inhaled deeply. "What is that?" he murmured.

Sarah looked over at him. "What? Did something change?"

"There's a smell. I-," He stopped. His eyes darted around as if he were searching through his thoughts. Sarah watched, fascinated by the expressions fleeting across his face.

Without warning he suddenly leaped forward, over the ledge, and out into the air. Sarah clamped a hand over her mouth to keep herself from crying out. She watched as his cloak took on the shape of giant wings. In two beats, the cloak was feathers, and Jareth was an owl. He was no longer a black force moving through the night, but a beautiful bird of gold and white. She watched him glide towards the building and disappear around a corner. Panicked at being left alone, she thought about standing, only to crouch back down in indecision.

When she remembered her cellular phone in her bag and was praying she could find reception, she saw him returning. The bird circled around behind her. In the blink of an eye, Jareth was back and moving towards her quickly. Without a word of explanation, he yanked her to her feet, threw his cloak around both of them, and pulled them both through the plains.


	8. Chapter 8

_Jareth_

 _8_

Spooked. If Jareth was being honest with himself that would be the exact emotion he was currently feeling. Spooked. Unnerved. A hard emotion to conjure up for one who ruled goblins, creatures whose soul purpose was to go bump in the night. Whatever, or whoever was down in that building he wanted to be as far away from them as possible. He felt Sarah's breath exhale sharply against his neck, her body move against his, as he enveloped her in his cloak and brought her with him.

Magic senses magic. Two Fae working spells independently will be aware of the other given close proximity. The spell may be unclear, its intent unknown, but the magic, the essence worked with, the energy which radiated from their beings, cannot be veiled. Jareth had, had his suspicions since the fire that there was more to recent events than simply coincidence. But dealing with Sarah had thrown everything haywire. Small details that should have been noticed had gone unchecked. Down near that building though, in bird form, his suspicions had been confirmed. And he had smelled something that had sent his heart racing. Without further consideration he had returned to Sarah and pulled her away.

He never even considered returning her to her apartment. When he stepped from the roof, he moved to the Underground, to his study. He needed his books of knowledge. Needed to be absolutely certain of what he had sensed and what he had smelled. Here, among his things, he could keep Sarah safe. He paused long enough to guide her to a chair. "Sit down," he offered, knowing that she was surely feeling a bit of shock and a whole lot of confusion.

Then he went to his books. Where was that section on spell casting? Lower right? No- that was potions. He moved along, chastising himself for never having alphabetized his collection. Behind him he heard movement: glancing up he saw Sarah stand up from the chair and walk towards a window. She isn't screaming, he thought and went back to the titles. He selected two books and brought them to his desk. He bent near to one, opening and scanning the pages.

"Where am I?" a small voice asked.

A distracted, "Hmm?" was all that acknowledged the question.

The list he went through categorized herbs used in various spells. He found the one he was looking for: Ague-Root. His mouth set in a thin line he flipped open the second book which was a pictorial guide to accompany the list of herbs. He found the illustration: a tall stalk with basil like leaves and clusters of white bell shaped flowers. Quite beautiful in its appearance. Quite worrisome in its talent. There was only one way to be certain. He splayed his fingers inches above the picture and said the words to reveal an impression of the plant's scent. With his suspicions confirmed his fingers clinched into a fist.

He heard the shuffling of feet. Looking up he noticed that Sarah was standing in front of one of the room's large windows. Her messenger bag had been forgotten on the seat. At least he wouldn't have to worry about her blade. He waited to see what she would do next. He honestly wasn't sure what she would do when her brain finished processing where she was. Now, away from danger, he wondered if he hadn't been a bit overactive. After all there hadn't been anything at her apartment. Yet his actions had been out of sincere concern for her as well as his well being.

She slowly turned around. "Take me back," she said. Her face was blank. Her voice cool.

Jareth raised an eyebrow. "Weird way to say thank you," he mocked.

"Take. Me. Back."

Silent he stood his ground. They were involved now. In this… mess… this whatever the bog it was together now. She was going to have to deal with it. As was he.

Her eyes lowered and she worried her lip. When she looked back at him, she said, "Were we in danger? Is that why you brought me here?"

He nodded. "Someone most definitely meant mischief." He indicated the book. When she hesitated he said, "See for yourself." She came near, her eyes watching him as if she expected said mischief to come from him. Jareth noted her irregular breathing. She inhaled in short gulps, as if she were swallowing down panic. "This was scattered all around the perimeter," he added as she turned the book to better see.

"Ague-Root. I'm not familiar with that."

"It has various uses depending on the spell."

"And the way it was used tonight?"

"Placed the way it was, right in our path, it was meant to cause confusion. And yes, we both would have been effected had we pursued the summons."

"Confusion? Why would anyone want to confuse me? I haven't done anything! You on the other hand," she flipped her hand in his direction. "have probably ticked half the world. Above and Below."

Jareth hummed and sort of shrugged.

She studied the picture for a moment. Closing her eyes she tried to regulate her breathing. The struggle to maintain some composure was evident. "Is it common for plants, or herbs to be used in spell casting?"

"Depends. Why?"

She went to the chair, and after rummaging in her bag, she brought out a bottle. "This. I think it's an herbal tincture." She passed the badly scorched bottle to him.

"And dare I ask where you acquired this?" He removed the cork and passed the topper under his nose, cautious. "Myrrh. Hhhmm." The condition of the bottle worried at his emotions. He exclaimed, "You went back to the other building!" The thought that she had gone back to a place where she could have been in harm's way angered him.

"I had too."

"But alone, Sarah?"

Hurriedly she explained herself, "If there was evidence of anything peculiar it needed to be found at once. After everything, we didn't even know if there had been a child. I had to know."

"Well?" he prompted.

Sarah shook her head. "There wasn't a child. I even called the local precinct- no one had been in the building during the fire. Except us. This," she pointed at the bottle in his hand. "was in the building."

Jareth looked from bottle to book to Sarah. And repeated the cycle when nothing new occurred to him. Myrrh and Ague-Root. These two elements had nothing in common. He was missing something. An individual had manipulated a wished away. This same person had knowledge enough to know about Ague-Root and its properties. Myrrh was a different matter all together. The oil its self had various uses as far as health benefits, but in a burning building. His thoughts took him to one conclusion. "Sarah," he said. The bottle in his hand felt warm. "Think very hard. Was there anything else in the building?"

"Yeah. Some graffiti," she replied without hesitation.

It was as if the bottle was emitting a steadily growing heat. "What exactly?"

"Triangles. Lots of them."

His skin felt burned. He sat the bottle down roughly. "I've been a fool," he mumbled. "That fire was more than just unnatural. It was set on purpose."

"Ok, help a mortal girl out here Jareth. What's the connection?"

"A triangle is a universal fire symbol. Traced with myrrh, a strong enough practitioner could control the flames. Telepathically." He tapped the side of his head for emphasis. "Given enough oil and symbols, you would have yourself a regular inferno within seconds."

That revelation was apparently the last that Sarah Williams could handle. With considerable force, she kicked the desk and went off stomping. Jareth winced, but didn't stop her. After one turn around the room she approached him, mouth opened looking ready to say a hundred things, only to huff and turn away again. Jareth watched half amused ,half sympathetic. Letting her get it out of her system now would be better in the long run. "Want something else to kick?" he offered.

Sarah glared at him from across the room. "I'd prefer something to castrate."

"Noted." He moved around the desk. After tossing his cloak on the back of his chair, he sat down. He let out a long sigh and stared at the ceiling. He heard Sarah begin her pace again. She wasn't likely to cool off any time soon. It was better to have her angry and present, then alone and ignorant. He wondered briefly if it was the prospect of his own ignorance that bothered him. And why is that? he asked himself. It wasn't as if he had inquired about her on a regular basis prior to all this. Now within two days he felt responsible for her well being.

Suddenly her face was in his line of sight, bending over him and his chair. Jareth watched her hair fall across one of her shoulders. No, you'd be liar, he told himself, if you told yourself you had never at least wondered about her well being over the years.

"I'm ready to go back now," she said.

"Threat of being burned alive, confusion, false summons- still want to go home?" he asked. Then added, "Alone?"

"It's late. I really just want to go to sleep in my bed. I'm sure you do too."

"That's awfully presumptuous."

"Being tired is presumptuous?"

"No, but your bed is."

"My bed is presumptuous?" she asked her brow creasing.

He couldn't help himself. The humor made the stress more bearable, even if it meant making her frustrated as well as angry."The implication that I should want to be in said bed," he explained.

"Oh." She leaned away. Mumbling something about being too tired for all of this, she snapped, "Are you going to take me home or not?"

"Yes." He stood up. As he retrieved his cloak he thought about goading her some more. It was rather fun after all. A flustered Sarah was a fascinating thing. Wasn't that one of the things he had found so attractive about her all those years ago? He moved near her. She shrunk back. "I thought you wanted to go home?" he asked exasperation and exhaustion finally breaking through.

"Yes. But do you have to…hold onto me? It seems so unnecessary."

Jareth raised an eyebrow and rolled his eyes. Instead of reaching for her waist, he offered her his hand. "Platonic enough for you girly?"

She wrinkled her nose. When he asked what the matter was this time, she huffed, "Don't call me girly."

And that was about all that Jareth Choblyn could handle for the night. "Fine," he bit out. He grabbed her hand, pulled her roughly close, and threw the cloak out into the air. The plains collapsed around them. The study shifted to her livingroom. Wrapped in his cloak, close, yet only touching hands, he considered several new fanciful things he would enjoy calling her. He chastised himself that only two days ago she had threatened to cut him with cold iron. That overlapped with an image from five years ago: her cornered in one of his tunnels, him leaning near her. Her voice mocked him in his head: _Liar, liar frickin' pants on fire_.

Sarah looked down at their clasped hands.

Jareth broke from his thoughts. "If you need me," he offered.

"I'll call."

He stepped away and was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

_Jareth_

 _9_

Back at the castle Jareth threw himself onto his bed. Weary in both mind and body, he stretched against the soft cotton fabric of the duvet waiting for the sleep he knew his body needed. Sleep. Uninterrupted, unhurried, glorious slumber. No healing to deprive him. No summons to distract. Just rest. He rolled to his stomach, sought a pillow, and after cradling his head he exhaled. After five seconds, his eyes opened and he realized he was staring into the blackness of his bedchamber. Another ten and the Sandman stubbornly refused to perform his duty.

Twenty.

Thirty.

A full minute and he sighed loud.

Rubbing his face he rolled to his back. "Bogwater," he cursed. Sleep was apparently not high on his body's list of priorities. Instead his imagination took control and the softness of his bed reminded him of the softness of a body. What it felt like to caress. What it felt like to tease. Jareth screwed up his face. He knew that he was heading down a dangerous, albeit attractive, path. It had been five years. Longer if he considered the time he had spent observing her prior to her wish. She had been so head strong. So determined to show that she was just as capable as he. And he had loved every moment.

Holding his hands before him in the dark he recalled the fullness of her waist as he held her. So much closer than the dance they had shared. So much more intimate. Her hair had brushed against his face. Soft and delicate.

He struck the mattress with a fist. You are not some pubescent, fumbling boy, he reprimanded his conscious. You're a grown man. Stop indulging. Anything you might have hoped for has long since passed.

But Sarah Williams was still beautiful. Still just as stubborn. Still out to prove that she could and would be the mistress of her own fate. And he, Jareth,was a grown man who most certainly didn't fumble. And a King does whatever he wants. Hadn't he always? This wasn't any different.

No. This was different. She wasn't out to just challenge him any more; she was out to challenge life.

It struck him as a tiny bit odd that his imagination could be so willful. That his own mind could argue with him. So much more mature, he realized, his thoughts moving from her body to her character. She hadn't fought him or shied away. Sarah had trusted him. And all he had wanted was to keep her safe. To show her what he could do as a Fae. Was it something to prove? Was his character under such scrutiny that he needed to demonstrate his abilities?

He would keep an eye her. That much he would do. The last thing he needed was word to get back to the courts that he was some how implemented in the burning alive of some young mortal woman. And said mortal had bested his Labyrinth several moons ago.

Jareth sat on the edge of the bed. "Sarah Williams," he murmured out loud into the darkness. "Precious thing. How you turn my world. Still."

Quitting the bed, knowing that sleep was far from him now, he aimlessly walked his room. In his head he heard her rejection, "You have no power over me." Those words had broken the spell that he had worked so tirelessly at, the better part of thirteen hours. Rejection. Then he heard her voice not even an hour since asking if it was necessary for him to hold onto her. Such great, unrelenting power she held over him. Five years had not changed that.

If in the event that no summons occurred he would check on her in a day or two. Jareth had his apprentice to see to as well as goblins to keep in check. The two days he had used for healing were enough that extra mayhem had ensued. As he suspected Stephen Nightwalker had gone to court leaving his other subjects completely unchecked. And the goblins had certainly run amok. There had been chickens allowed in chambers that were supposed to be off limits. A very disgruntled goat had been dragged into the throne room, adorned with some sort of bucket/makeshift crown no less. And, not one but two barrels of ale had been splintered in the great hall due to barrel racing.

"There has long since been an understanding," he began, speaking to a jumbled gathering. "that the king is allowed certain private rooms. And in said private rooms the king is allowed certain niceties that are to be untouched, unmarred, unsoiled by any feathered fowl or beast. If I find one," he held up a finger for threatening emphasis. "just one egg amongst my private chambers, you all shall find yourselves cozy neighbors to a certain Prince of the Land of Stench!"

The goblins at this point scattered in absolute fear and proceeded to clean away every trace of the chickens.

Stephen Nightwalker was another matter all together. Unaware or unaffected by Jareth's situation he had asked if the king had enjoyed his brief holiday. Jareth stared at him incredulously for a moment unsure whether to call him stupid or call his bluff. There had been a prickling in the back his mind that Stephen Nightwalker knew all too well what had transpired these last two days; had perhaps even orchestrated the whole ordeal. Opting for neither, he inquired about his familiar. "I'm still struggling," Stephen admitted. Then added, "You went on a summons without me. Was something amiss?"

Jareth considered a simple lie, a straight forward, no. "It is at my discretion where I let you accompany me, Stephen."

Stephen had brown eyes that were far too close set. When he lowered his lids to ponder something it often appeared as if he were going cross eyed. "The High King wishes me trained. I would think…"

"Oh? What exactly is it that you think Stephen?"

Stephen swallowed. "That I should be exposed to all aspects of your job."

This was not the first time that Stephen Nightwalker had pressed Jareth for more insight; for more information. And Jareth had been controlling himself far too much these last few days. Jareth reached up and snapped his fingers. Stephen Nightwalker vanished in a brief flash of light.

One of these days, Jareth considered, the Bog will be far too crowded. In an omnipresent voice he spoke aloud, smiling, knowing that his apprentice would be able to hear him, "So you wish to know every aspect of my job? Very well. Then learn your way around. Find your way back to the castle."

For two days he performed his duties as king- answering correspondence, considering the acquisition of a piece of art, settling disputes over turnip field ownership, and seeing to the long process of wished away assimilation in the Underground.

This last aspect of his job he enjoyed the most. Seeing who was old enough for various apprenticeships, who was young enough to be adopted out. The long held myth that wished away children were turned into goblins was simply that: a myth. While the practice of Changelings still happened among certain Fae, most wished away children were left in their human state. Not that there were many to be found in the Goblin City. Actually, Jareth mused, there weren't any currently. Hadn't been for, well, time out of mind. Which was a long time considering the many centuries he had lived through. He shrugged it off.

For two days he left Sarah well enough alone. The first of the two nights he fell soundly asleep. The much needed rest was welcomed. The second night though found him once more battling his imagination. He glanced at the clock on the mantle in his study: it was a quarter after eleven. He supposed that it really wasn't too late. The hour was still respectable enough. A visit to check in, to make sure no hexes or anything peculiar had shown up was in order.

He appeared inside her livingroom. The apartment was dark and quiet. He stood quite still, listening: a faucet dripped, something in the walls creaked, but there wasn't another soul about. Sarah Williams wasn't home. Where could she have gotten off to? He stretched his magic around the small space. Empty. Curious he approached her bedroom. Her cold iron was absent as well. She had gone out with protection. Part of him was glad for it. The other part worried that she had gone off and done something foolish again as she had when she had gone back to building alone.

Jareth tapped his chin with his fingers. Taking a step into the room he observed her unmade bed, a few articles of clothing crumbled on the floor. The few books she had out were fiction. One in particular amused him, Lewis Carol's "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland." Carol had been a fascinating mortal.

The sound of a key turning in the lock had Jareth literally poofing himself from one side of the door to the next. Sarah appeared, her messenger bag bouncing off her hip and several paper grocery bags balanced in her arms. And a smile on her face. Hand on the lock she paused as if assessing his presence. "Checking on me?" she asked. "See- all in one piece."

Her hair was falling out of a pony tale, her shirt was rumbled, and quite honestly she was gorgeous. "I see," he replied.

She shut her door with her foot. "Since you're here," she said handing off a bag and moving towards the kitchen. "I've been gone all day. Haven't had hardly a bite to eat. You?"

"I'm fine." Jareth peered in the bag. "Are you in the habit of consuming fortified beverages on a regular basis?" he then asked retrieving a bottle from the bag.

"You mean a glass of wine? Occasionally. Tonight I splurged a bit. I had a small victory today."

"Do tell."

She reached up into a cabinet and brought down two wine glasses. "A child I helped earlier this year, well, her parents were officially brought up on charges of neglect. There is hope for justice."

"Not exactly throwing them in some oubliette and forgetting their existence."

"No. But I have to work within a system. Rules, regulations."

Jareth smiled. "As do I. One of the many perks of being a king- I work within my own rules."

She looked at him. "Obliette. A dungeon. You really do that? That's oddly satisfying to learn. Anyways, not only were they arraigned, but the kid's foster parents are a dream. Exactly the sort one would hope for. Here." Having poured the wine she handed him a glass. It was a soft blush. She clinked his glass and drank.

Jareth had never much cared for what mortals referred to as wine. He often found them bitter. He drank. "Not bad," he commented.

"Oh?"

"It's not Wisteria Nectar or Dandelion Wine, but it's smooth enough."

"I've heard of Dandelion Wine. I always wondered if it would be intensely bitter like its leaves."

"Left to its own devices for several months, having been sweetened with sugar and ginger, it is quite delicious." Peering into his glass he added, "I might just have a bottle or two back at the castle."

Her eyes gleamed.

Jareth looked from her to the bags of food. "Set the table. I'll be back in a moment."

He was gone and back again before she even had time to finish setting two places at her small table. She had bought a small selection of finger foods- a caprese salad, tapenade, and a small loaf of pre-sliced bread. She also provided two clean glasses for the Dandelion Wine. Jareth watched her drink. "That, is good," she praised and then licked her lips.

"To small victories," he said, raising the bottle and filling her glass again.

Much to his amusement, Sarah took to Dandelion Wine with very little discretion. He could have come up with any number of reasons why she was exercising very little caution- genuinely happy about her small victory; much like himself, she needed to break the stress she had been under; and perhaps, just perhaps was completely unaware of her own personal limitations. Whatever the reason, he found he enjoyed a tipsy Sarah.

"You know, what we do, our job, it can have such rewards," she said, helping herself to her third glass. "But some times it is such a bother."

He still didn't understand how she performed her job. It made little sense that she should have such powers, but he indulged her. "Really now?"

"It can be all consuming. I used to have something of a life before all this." She waved her hand in the air. "I'd go out. Like with friends. Even guys." She smiled and snorted a small laugh. "You probably don't want to hear about that though."

Jareth leaned back in his chair. "Not particularly," he admitted. "But sate my curiosity: what sort of men did Sarah Wiliams used to go out with?"

"Not men," she corrected. She shook her head vehemently. "No. Boys- the lot of them. And I don't so much miss them, as I do the actual going out part." On unsteady feet she stood up, grabbed her glass and moved into the small livingroom. "Especially the kissing. Kissing is an underrated activity. Of course I don't know what you would do on a date. Wait. Do you date?" she asked looking back at him.

Jareth chuckled. "I've been known to, yes." Dandelion Wine certainly loosened her tongue.

"Dinner? Movies?" she asked.

"We have entertainment in the Underground. I used to frequent concert halls." He joined her. "There were elvan singers who could make you weep."

She swayed. And exaggeratedly shrugged her shoulders. "I suppose you're allowed to. I used to dance too." She kicked off her flip flops. "That is probably the one activity I miss the most." She closed her eyes and lost herself in some memory for a moment.

"I do enjoy dancing," agreed Jareth.

She was looking at him. Her cheeks and chest were flushed from the alcohol. Her eyes were shiny. "Dance with me."

Coming close, he took her glass away, and held her about the waist. Holding her left hand he guided her in a simple waltz. She leaned close. Jareth felt her, warm and firm along his body. She sighed. "Yes, dancing," she said with satisfaction. After a few steps she added, briskly, "Most of the boys I knew would have tried to kiss me by now."

Jareth drew her in closer. "I can't blame them, the poor sods."

She laughed. "I have a feeling that you want to kiss me too."

By the Moon, yes he did. Jareth felt her weight shift and she pulled away from him.

"I'm not easy, you know," she said. Her words had taken on a slurred lilt.

"Never thought that for a minute."

She pointed a finger at him. "Never even let them get to third base. Nope. Goodness." She swayed and put her hands out to steady herself. "I think I need to sit down."

Jareth caught her about the waist and lowered her to the couch. "I think you have had enough Dandelion Wine."

"I'm not drunk. Just tipsy. There's a difference. If you kissed me, I'd remember it."

"Yes. But you would probably be angry in the morning." He sat next to her. He surprised himself at the amount of control he was exercising. In her current state it would be so easy. But then he thought: better to have her think something happened. She'll be thoroughly flustered in the morning. He grinned against his hand. She was also getting progressively sleepier. Her head rested against the back of the couch.

"You like me angry," she said.

"Perhaps, I do. Yet I do believe I would prefer you consenting. Amenable."

She broke through the haze of inebriation, long enough to raise her head and then promptly fall over on him. "I'm amenable. I consent," she said her voice muffled against his shirt.

Then she was still. Jareth found himself awkwardly pinned to the arm of the couch by her weight. "Sarah?" She had fallen into a drunken sleep. He wanted to laugh. Instead he shifted her and stretched out on the couch with her cradled against his side. Small victories indeed, he thought.

 _Author's Notes: I think I rewrote this chapter some eight times. While it had been eight chapters since the story began, it had only been a matter of days since our favorite leading man and lady had been thrown together again. Torn between fan-service and depth of story, I attempted a middle ground. It also became apparent while writing this chapter that it had been time out of mind since I had written any sort of romance... everything sounded juvenile and awkward. Though my writing voice sounds a great deal like Stephen Fry- that probably doesn't help. Some character notes as well I believe are in order. Jareth for me has never been particularly cruel- manipulative, vindictive at times, and powerfully obsessive- but never physically cruel. It has also been five years. I figured he had to mature a bit. A little lesson learned in love lost. He's a strange mixture of Jareth from the movie, Howl, and Doctor Strange. Sarah has also had time to change. She was terribly feisty in the Labyrinth- I wanted that still intact. She is still young. Yet has already moved out on her own. She's still just as determined to lead her own life, that no one should have any power over her. But obviously Jareth muddles that a bit. I'm off a minivacation. You all shall have to wait patiently for the "morning after."_


	10. Chapter 10

_Sarah_

 _10_

Sarah was absolutely certain she was hung over. There was no doubt in her mind that the sticky residue in her mouth, the bad taste on her tongue, and the pounding in her head were all symptoms of having consumed far too much wine. She had never in her life drank so much. Yet despite her inexperience it was as if one just innately knew when one was hung over.

There were several other things though that she was most certainly not sure of.

Where had she fallen asleep? Had she fallen asleep alone? And third, by everything pure and holy, had she done what she thought she might have done with a certain fae king?

She half hoped she could just lie still long enough that she'd fall back into a deep slumber. Forgetfulness would take over and she would awake refreshed and assured that it had all been something of a dream. But her bladder was full. Cautiously she opened her eyes: she was on the couch. So she had not made it to bed. Tentatively she shifted her legs- she was on the couch alone. There was the heavy scent of coffee in the air. Slow as to not further aggravate her skull, Sarah rolled to her side.

Sitting in her arm chair, half dressed, and hair apparently damp, sat Jareth reading a book. He looked refreshed and relaxed, as if he had showered and helped himself to breakfast. Through slit lids she watched as he drank from a mug, turned a page, and continue to be unaware of her. Sarah felt a groan rise up in her throat. She swallowed it down.

"Good morning," he said, eyes still on the book. "A little under the weather this morning, my dear?"

She threw an arm over her eyes. "My head," she managed to say.

There was a rustling of fabric and soft foot falls. When she peeked out from under her arm she saw him place a tall glass of water on the side table. "Drink that." He returned the chair, stretched his legs out and resumed reading.

Sarah noticed his boots were off. His toes struck her as funny. The Goblin King has toes, the thought was wildly new and interesting, rather long, bony toes. Of course he has toes, he has feet. Hadn't she taken care of him on this very couch only a hand full of days ago? Still, they amused her. The small laugh that followed rattled her head and the suppressed groan escaped.

Slowly she sat up. If they had done anything last night, it was lost. She had a hazy memory of dancing with him and a possible confession of not having been to third base- no, had she really said that? The water was cool. Her brain seemed to relax with each mouth full. The first time was supposed to be special, memorable; perhaps not ripped bodices or broken mattress springs, but at least something one could recall with fondness. She glanced at his shirt, unbuttoned and loose, and felt a twinge of regret at not being able to recall if she had done any sort of undressing last night.

Keeping her eyes down she said, "About last night,"

He hummed.

"Did anything…I mean, is there a reason that you're…You and I," she waved her hand vaguely in the air.

"Never fear, my dear, my virtue is still intact."

"Your virtue?"

His eyes were still on the book. "I refused your advances. Though I must admit your womanly wiles were most tempting."

If there had been a pillow, she would have thrown it at his contemptible face. Instead she laid back against the cushions. "Jerk," she bit out.

He chuckled. "Oh Sarah I am indeed. But not without scruples."

"You and your bony toes are nothing, but trouble."

He put the book down. She saw his eye brow rise up and his lips part. He said, "Nothing happened."

"Just a few embarrassing confessions."

"I prefer charming confessions. Now," he stood up and turned towards the kitchen. "another glass of water and a light breakfast are in order. Then maybe we can have some actual talk."

From her seat on the couch Sarah watched as he passed behind the half wall that divided the living room from the kitchen. A moment later as if on an invisible conveyor belt plates, cups, and utensils floated out and made their way to the table. Bread appeared, toasting itself as it moved. Mugs that were empty, touched the table, and gathered steam as coffee filled them. Even with all her belief and her brief encounters with it, magic still filled her with wonder.

At the table she nibbled on the toast. Jareth sat with another cup of coffee. He said, "I've been thinking this morning about our current situation. I think you and I need to compare notes on our wished away children."

"Well, I can say with certainty that no one has ever tried to burn me alive before."

He nodded in agreement. "What about those symbols you found- the triangles. Have you ever seen them before?"

"No. Really, Jareth, I've never had any negative backlash. The whole thing is very odd. Have you ever heard of someone targeting people like us; people who take care of wished away?"

"No, I have not. But that doesn't mean there couldn't ever be. I've seen many a runner filled with rage at not winning back a child."

She took a long drink of water. "Hoggle told me that you give all wishers the chance. Am I the only one that ever succeeded?"

Jareth studied his coffee. "The Labyrinth has made allowances before. It is generally at her discretion who is worthy or not."

She was sure he meant Labyrinth, capitol L, a pronoun. Some where in her gradually recovering brain she found a memory of him saying, "my labyrinth….How are you enjoying my Labyrinth?" His small admission though seemed to suggest that he did not fully own it. The maze had moved and changed seemingly at random one moment and then deliberately the next. The idea that it was an actual magical creature, studying the hearts and minds of those who ran its, no, her paths was unnerving.

"It's alive," she murmured.

"Very much so."

"I think I can manage some coffee. Thank you." The warm caffeine worked its way through her, helping to chase off the grogginess. A theory occurred to Sarah that could help explain things. If not who meant them harm, then at least to shed some light on why she could feel these children. "Could the Labyrinth have anything to do with this?" she asked.

"You think she means me harm?"

"I meant with me. During my time with in it could it, sorry, I mean she, could she have altered me?"

Jareth considered the question. "Anything is possible. We are digressing though. We were speaking about the wished away."

Something was tickling the deep recesses of her memory. Sarah couldn't let it go. "Now hold on a minute. I made a wish. I ran through the Labyrinth. Was I an allowance? Could Toby have brought something back with him?"

"I never bequeathed any gifts to your brother. Only to you."

Her brow furrowed. "Are you talking about the words? The 'right words' were a gift?"

Jareth tucked hair behind his ears and shifted in his chair. "Anyone can use the rights words. I'm referring to the peach."

Sarah remembered vividly the feel of the sun as it crested the hills outside the gates; the damp that lined the first walls; she could hear the hallow tap of her shoes against the stone paths and the distant cry of her brother; the memory of the bog was just as pungent; the feathers that brushed against her skin as the Firies had macabrely danced; all of these and more were just as if she been there yesterday.

She could even remember Jareth in extreme detail. The fear that had twisted in her gut when he had first appeared in her parents' room had been both alluring and repelling. He had arrived like a god of night, an owl swooping in on its skittish prey. The power he had emitted. The authority he possessed. The near mocking confidence that had begged her to all at once cower and challenge. Her every bookish teenage fantasy bought to life: blonde as an elf, clad in the night, and royalty to boot. Every hormone in her body had come to attention when he had arrived. She could recall curves of his body and leers from those two toned pupils in ways that made her blush crimson.

"Jareth," she began slowly. There was something in the way he had spoken that made her tread easy. "I don't remember any peach."

"The one Hoggle gave you." He smiled, wary.

Sarah knew that she had been through a lot in less than a week. She was operating under a lot of stress, and her current head ache made her thoughts a bit sluggish, but on this she was confident: there had not been any peach.

"Sarah," he said. "We danced last night. We," he paused as if searching for the right words. "were being reminiscent."

"About things we used to do, sure. I have no memories, fond or otherwise about a peach."

This seemed to trouble him. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes on her face. After a very long moment all he said was, "Well." Followed with a deep breath and, "Well then."

There had been once and only once when she had seen his confidence shaken. It had not been a pretty moment. The world literally falling about them in bits and pieces she had taken control, forced him to relinquish his hold on her brother and then refuse him. But this was the first time she had ever witnessed him at a loss for words. His eyes moved from her, to the table, and back. He straightened in his chair as if he were going to stand, to leave. There had been enough that lately. Sarah reached out and touched his arm, "Stay. Please, if you're thinking about leaving because this is too awkward or you need time to think or whatever, don't. Stay. I…I want you to."

He relaxed back in his seat. When he spoke it was quiet and weary, "I don't understand any of this."

"Neither do I. We've been so focused on the wished away, maybe we're missing another key element. Maybe it isn't about them. Maybe it's about us."

Jareth's lips puckered. "I don't know. There is one option we haven't considered yet: the triangles. I know, you said you have never seen them before, but that doesn't mean they weren't there."

"I have some contacts in the local precincts that might be able to tell us if there were any. I'll have to come up with some pretext for asking after other cases."

"Leave that part to me."

"And what about this peach business: is there a way to retrieve this supposed memory?"

"Yes. But it would require a good deal of trust. I would need full access to your subconscious. Nothing painful. Just." He reached out and ran two fingers along her forehead.

Sarah felt all the tension leave her face. The tightness around her skull eased into nothing. She saw a brief flash of her livingroom in lamp light and the two of them slowly dancing. Jareth was resting his head against hers, smiling looking for all the world like the most content man alive. She felt his fingers reach her temple and stop. Her eyes focused on his face.

She swallowed. "We'll investigate the triangles first."

Jareth smiled over his coffee mug.

 _Author's Notes: cue sub-plot development! Chapter 11 is in the works. It's summer vacation around these parts and I have three offspring under foot 24/7._


	11. Chapter 11

_Jareth_

 _11_

"I don't understand why you insisted on driving."

Jareth eyed with impatience the slow moving vehicles in front of them. He enjoyed a well made car- a powerful, sleek, machine that could be controlled and manipulated. Drivers on the other hand, particular human ones who either seemed perpetually distracted or overtly cautious, he could not abide. Traveling by magic would have been far easier.

Sarah changed lanes and accelerated. "Semblance of control," she replied.

They both had changed into appropriate business attire and had gone out into the late morning to find the storm had finally blown over. Now the air was thick with humidity. Jareth snapped his fingers at the A/C controls: the atmosphere in the car dropped in temperature. The only two items he had asked Sarah for was a plain sheet of paper and a manila folder. These he held in his lap.

Sarah cast a sideways glance at them. "So what's your plan?"

"I'm going to impersonate a detective."

She braked at a light. "That could get us in a lot of trouble."

He held up the folder. "These will take care of that."

"I've a reputation to consider," she said.

"I think staying alive is far more important than one's reputation." He grinned. She agreed with a laughed. "Besides," he continued. "your part of this will hardly test your reputation."

She maneuvered the car into a parallel parking spot. "Right- I'll only inquire about the cases I was involved with."

"And I will find out if there have been any arson cases with our triangle marks. Sarah," he said as she turned to unlock the driver's side door. She looked back at him. He took in her grey skirt and black top. For once she had left her hair down and had applied some light makeup. When she had first emerged from her bathroom dressed thus, Jareth had a moment where he wanted to remind her that on the previous night she had consented. To what end exactly, he had had half a mind to demonstrate immediately. In this brief moment, he couldn't decide if the messy pony tale Sarah or this classy woman on a mission was more appealing. He tucked such sentiments away for future use and said,"If anything feels off, any reason at all simply say my name."

Her eyes took in the side walk, pedestrians, other vehicles. She nodded. "Okay." They both exited the vehicle.

Jareth squinted in the bright light. After adjusting his sports coat he reached into an inner pocket and pulled forth a pair of dark shades. Sarah joined him. She pulled her hair around her to one shoulder and instead of lifting her messenger bag over her head she had opted for a simple white purse with a gold chain. Jareth reached back into the same pocket and offered her a pair of shades as well.

"Now we're in character," she teased, putting them on.

"Completely inconspicuous."

"Code word: Jareth."

Jareth considered smacking her backside and changing the code word to: sexy. It would completely rattle her though and she needed to concentrate. Instead he smiled broadly to himself and set off towards the front doors.

Inside he took a moment to find the easiest one to manipulate. His magic was full, he could sustain enough glamour for hours, but he needed to not just pass for a detective, but also gain information. In his peripheral he saw Sarah approach the desk of the contact she knew. She was greeted warmly, a well known individual. He was a stranger. Several officers had all ready taken a mild interest in his presence. One though was absorbed in a large bulky machine known as a computer and a stack of papers.

Jareth sent his glamour out in full force. "You there," he said with authority, striding up to the desk. The man's ID read, Sergeant Jameson. Jareth noted a phone with a stack of sticky note memos covering the console's buttons. Without waiting he bombarded the man, "I called in earlier regarding a series of arson attacks bearing these symbols." Here he paused, dropped open the manila envelope, showed the white piece of paper, and quickly slapped it shut again. The trick was to suggest just enough and then have the individual fill in the blanks.

Sergeant Jameson, nodded. "Those pesky triangles- haven't been able to make any sense of them."

Jareth moved the folder under his left arm. And then without pausing removed it and placed it under his right. "I'll need copies of those case files." The folder came out, opened, showed the blank piece of paper, "Here is the request form." And he tucked the folder back under his right. One item, multiple spots, glamour fills in the blanks.

Without any further questioning, the sergeant was up and retrieving the files. Jareth glanced around: no one else's eyes were paying him any mind. His eyes moved to the captain's office- so long as no one in authority took much notice of him, everything should go fine. Sarah was all ready shaking the hand of her contact, a small stack of folders in her own hand.

While he waited he examined Sergeant Jameson's desk: aside from the clutter of paper work and messages, there was also a very cold mug of coffee and what appeared to be a half eaten bagel sandwich. After glancing around, Jareth snapped his fingers at the mug- it was full once more and pipping hot. Another snap and the food was fresh, wrapped in wax paper. A small thank you for the task he had forced upon the officer of the law.

Sarah was leaving. He more heard than saw her. The sergeant was taking far too long. Jareth had snapped the wax wrappings away when he finally appeared. He was carrying quite the impressive stack of folders. Jareth felt a weight in his stomach. Had there been so many? There had only been four times he had been blocked from a wished away. Sarah claimed that the night of the fire was the only interference she had experienced. With a curt, "Good day," Jareth took the stack and left.

Sarah was in the car, the air conditioner on full blast. She was all ready flipping through one of the cases, worrying her lip. When she looked at him, he hefted his collected, and she sighed. This was far graver than either one of them had first thought.

Claiming semblance of control once more, Sarah insisted on stopping to pick up something for lunch. At the apartment once more, Vietnamese food spread out on the small table, the two of them each began flipping through their folders. By the third, Sarah had kicked off her black pumps and Jareth had stripped off his sport coat. She said, "So far this isn't boding well. I wish I had a map- these points should be plotted."

"Excellent suggestion," agreed Jareth standing from the table. "Over here." In her livingroom, he waved a hand in a wide arch across one of her walls and a city map appeared. "What do you have so far?"

"Well we know for sure that the night of the fire had them- here." She indicated the cross streets where the building was located.

Jareth tapped the spot: a small red dot appeared.

Sarah held open a folder. "And the last one that actually had a child, that took place over here. Yeah, there were triangles found in the alley behind the building."

Another red dot.

Jareth remembered that night- Stephen Nightwalker and him had been watching from the roof of a nearby building. When she indicated another one he had been at, he took an educated guess and notated the remaining two. "These were the four I was blocked from," he explained.

"You were blocked from four, but the night of the fire we both were allowed in- so weird." She studied the map. "And if there were triangles before, why not start a fire? There's no pattern."

"Not yet anyway," said Jareth retrieving his folders from the table. He marked a fifth.

Sarah watched. "Do you think there could be?"

Funny how a week ago Jareth had insisted that this situation shouldn't be possible. And yet here he found himself replying, for not the first time, "Anything is possible." And then, "What the deuce is that humming noise?"

A faint hum was filling the room. Sarah exclaimed a small "Oh" and turned to go to her room, only to pause and hesitate. "It's a call," she said. "From the Underground."

Jareth looked over his shoulder. "Well, go on," he said. She went into her room and shut the door.

He might dislike the little scab, but for whatever reason Sarah found his company charming. Jareth was not ignorant of their continued friendship, or with the other residents the fox Sir Didymus and the rock caller, Ludo. On more than one occasion he had harassed the dwarf for information about her: well far, schooling, generalities; quite honestly just enough to cause him discomfort. Jareth figured that Hoggle probably carried some strange torch for Sarah.

He plotted another point.

Not that he was jealous. Hardly. Well, at least not in any physical sense. The friendship the two had formed though, yes, that he had been jealous of. He had offered Sarah eternity and she had opted for a grubby dwarf.

Points seven and eight went up.

He went back to the table, rubbed his face and reached for his drink. Sarah had bought two disposable cups of what she called iced tea. It had a faint lemon flavor and was strong, like a green leaf tea. It actually was quite refreshing. He'd much rather consume this in the Above than any more of their so called wine. The folders were spread out now. Some he remembered responding to, a successful wished away. Others were simple acts of arson. But they all had the triangles.

Through the door he could hear the faint murmur of Sarah's voice.

Not trusting himself to not give into the temptation to eavesdrop, he went back to the map. He was staring at the points, when Sarah returned. She sipped through a straw her own beverage, standing at his side. Aside from all being relatively close together, the points held no other information- the buildings were different, with child, without children.

Sarah walked up the map and using her finger began tracing out different patterns. Connecting the dots in any way imaginable.

Jareth saw her fingers trace a series of Xs. "Wait," he said. He came near. If he X-ed out four of the points, then the remaining four were guides for circles. Splaying his fingers he made the outlines glow red. "There."

"Another symbol?" Sarah asked setting her drink aside. Her voice was tight, as If there had been too much lemon in her tea.

Jareth stared at the map. "The makings of one."

Using his finger he completed the symbol. What they were looking at were four circles: two balanced one on top of the other, then one on the left and one on the right. The Xs were encased in each circle.

"Do I really want to know what this one means?"

Jareth looked at her. She had undergone a change: her countenance afraid, her eyes tired. She wasn't going to go stomping about the room again. No. She was beyond that now. This was stress. This was fear of the unknown. This was a weight that no amount of sleep, teasing, liquor, or distraction could ease. Jareth felt it too. He wanted to pull her into his arms; to protect her. He also wanted to take her against the wall; to relieve the tension, to know the satisfaction of hearing her moan. To loose himself in her scent and body.

He looked away. Furrowing his brow, he explained, "This symbol represents strength of magic. Whoever this person is, whatever they want, they are using these points to build their own personal strength."

"To grow stronger?"

"Yes. This is old magic. More to the point it's rune magic. The person involved is having to use symbols to generate energy."

"And the triangles?"

He shook his head. "It's almost as if they have a different purpose all together. Yes, their power will increase as this larger symbol builds, but…"

"Like he was waiting for us to be in the building together before using them." He looked at her again. She continued, "I said this morning that I felt like this was about us and not so much the wished away. There hasn't been a single child hurt."

"Not yet," protested Jareth.

Sarah shook her head. "It's about us," she stated. Raising her arm, she put a hand on his chest. "You feel it too. Here." Her fingers flexed against him. Jareth felt the warmth of her skin through his shirt. Felt the pressure she applied as she struggled with some emotion. "You keep coming back. I keep letting you in."

Hand on her wrist, he held onto her. "Are we safe together?" His other hand rested on her out stretched arm. "Or should we be apart?"

For a moment she stared at her hand resting against him. "Go. If you need to."

Need. She was giving him an out. Allowing him the chance to leave, to not entangle their lives any further. Need. Last night she had admitted so many things to him. Need. She would be in worse danger without him. Need. There was a chance he would be leading them to their deaths. Need.

His hand was moving down her arm, then deliberately moving back in a slow caress.

"This morning you told me to stay," he pointed out.

"I know what I said," she replied gently shoving him. There was a faint smile. "I also know that last night I said I consented to some things."

"And the other night you told me not to hold onto you," he interjected with a smirk.

She scoffed and gave him another small smile. This faded quickly though. "This would be so much easier, if I just knew…" her sentence trailed, unfinished. When he prompted her, she screwed up her face, and said, "If I knew it was more than just the adrenaline speaking. It'd be so easy right now- you in trousers and a nice button down; a stupid to-go cup in your hand. But when this," she waved at the map, "is all over, you'll go home. You'll go back to being a king. And I'll go back to being just Sarah."

Jareth reached out and held her chin. "Not just Sarah. You have a gift. A gift that no mortal, ordinary woman has. Do you think just anyone can operate a magical mirror? Do you think it's common for mortals to be friends with a dwarf? Sarah. You are so much more." He bent near. Saw her eyes widen. Saw her lips fall open. "Keep letting me in."

Then he kissed her.

And Sarah Williams kissed him back. Her lips were soft. Her breath tasted like sweetened tea. Nothing light and timid about it either. She had her hands in his hair, applying pressure to his neck. Her body was stretched against his. It was her mouth that deepened the kiss as well. Jareth felt all the anxiety in his system shift and his knees went weak as his body reeled in her touch. His arms tightened around her, wanting her closer still.

Then it was her that broke the kiss. Breathing heavy and pressed tight she pulled away.

"Sarah what are you doing?" he asked his voice raw.

Their noses rubbed. "Stopping," she said her breath airy.

That would not do. Jareth roughly kissed her again, his lips and tongue forcing her mouth open. He held her face refusing to let her collect her thoughts. He was tired of thinking. Tired of controlling his emotions, his desires. The universe had been tipping both of them sideways and front ways and square ways. In the last week he hadn't had a single bogged thing go his way.

She managed to pull free again. "Stop," she said again.

He was not being gentle. He knew this. Even as he pushed her against the wall, driving them towards his little fantasy that he had played out his head, he knew. Pining her hips to the wall he lowered his head and kissed her neck. "No," he hissed against her skin.

"Yes." Her hands lay on across his back. "I only consented to kissing."

Jareth stilled his assault on her soft skin. "Do you really expect me to be so accommodating over semantics?"

"I expect you to adhere to your own kind's code of conduct. You cannot take what is not freely given." She was calm and serious.

Still he held her pinned and she made no move to put distance between them. Jareth grinned hidden in her hair. "Then I shall only kiss you. Though you so clearly desire more." Playfully his hand skimmed her left breast which tightened under the contact.

Sarah batted him away. "Play fair," she snapped.

"Never." His kissed her again. "Tell me Sarah, dear, are you aware of what a tease is?"

She scowled. "I have my reasons. And if we survive all this, you might just understand them."

Jareth took a small step back. "Humor me. Tell me one of your reasons."

"We barely know one another." She took advantage of the distance and stepped sideways. One of his hands went with her. Jareth was not ready to let her go. "I'm not a tease," she insisted. "You kissed me."

Jareth considered her reason. She had consented to kissing; had even admitted that kissing was one of her favorite past times. And had allowed him to kiss her fervently. He had tasted her, his Sarah, and he was confident that he was on his way to being a full blown addict. Her face wasn't nearly as drawn as it had been just moments ago. There was a certain amount of pride in knowing he could so easily distract her, even make her happy.

"Back to the matter at hand," she was saying, nodding up at the map. "What do we plan on doing to survive this?"

Jareth had a few ideas. Yet he felt he needed to drive home one last point. He drew her near, speaking in her ear, tickling her, "One of these days you will run out of valid reasons. And believe me, my dear, I will hasten that day." He stepped away.

 _Author's Notes: I am by no means a magic practitioner. I have aquaintances who have been very helpful with some of the finer details- the triangles, the oils, etc. I prefer authenticity over blatantly made up nonsense. I plan on figuring out a way to upload the symbol of strength so you all will be able to see exactly what Jareth surmised on the map._


	12. Chapter 12

_Sarah_

 _12_

When the call had come from her friends back in the Underground, initially Sarah had intended to ensure them she was safe, even ask them if triangles or any sort of rune magic had had any sort of impact on their life. She was not so caught up in the web being woven around her and the king to not show concern for her friends' safety.

Yet then she had asked about goblin fruit. Especially peaches.

Sir Didymus knew of the king's orchards that grew near the Forbidden Forest. Harvest time was open to all to gather what they desired as well to help fill the king's stores. In fact Didymus was most enthusiastic about their taste, their flavor- "Simply delicious!" he raved. He had then laughed about Ludo one year slipping in a pile of over ripe ones.

Hoggle on the other hand had stayed quiet. Responding with shrugs or off handed remarks. "They's good," was all he had said regarding the fruit.

"Would I know if I had tasted one?" Sarah had asked.

Sir Didymus' whiskers had twitched. "My lady, thou dost know that we would never give thee goblin fruit. That is not unless you asked us to, yet even then..."

"I know. But, say, I had one, but didn't know it. Would there be something different about me?"

Hoggle, shifting uncomfortably as if he had taken a recent tumble, had said, "We would needs to do some research."

"Brother, thou knowest the fruit changes the humans," said Didymus. The fox had appeared most distressed, insisting that Sarah would have to have eaten the fruit willingly. She had said her goodbyes even as the little knight had declared repeatedly he would find the villain that had tampered with her.

And that was where her mind had gone right when Jareth had turned all kind and romantic, paying her compliments and kissing her. That kiss. His lips had been smooth and inviting. His body's response had intensified the ache that filled her. She had kissed back. For a second she had thought, screw it all, and had wrapped herself tighter against him. It would have been wonderful to loose herself in his heat. For a lapse of time to just feel pleasure; to know what he felt and tasted like.

But that peach. The implications that someone had forced something on her. That there was something she couldn't remember. That she had powers that no one could explain. And in the end could be the root of her current problem. That had caused her to pull out of his kiss, to insist that he adhere to the old code.

Standing next to him, a teasing smirk on his sharp features, she again found a small part of herself suspicious that he had done something to her. He had said Hoggle had given her the peach. But Hoggle insisted that he had not given her anything. Sarah swallowed hard. Hoggle had done no such thing. Sir Didymus had insisted, but Hoggle- her friend, her confidant- had neither denied nor confirmed such actions. Never.

She glanced sideways at Jareth- his eyes were on the map.

The tired weight returned to her shoulders and she sighed. Instead of digging through the dirt, maybe she just needed to rest. She went to her couch and sat down. She would close her eyes for a cat nap.

One moment she saw Jareth in front of the map his sleeves rolled up looking every bit the human, and the next he was gone as was her livingroom. The walls were white, a strange light made them iridescent at times. Slowly Sarah sat up on her couch. This simple movement was made a little difficult by the dress she found herself wearing: there was a cumbersome amount of tulle and material that she had to maneuver around so her legs wouldn't become entangled; then there was the bodice that was cinched tight around her chest and middle that made bending extremely uncomfortable. With a huff and a kick that resembled an over turned beetle, Sarah got up.

The motion disturbed something lying next to her and it clattered to the floor. It was a skull, with exaggerated eye sockets and bone carved eye brows. Sarah picked it up. It was actually a mask. A disguise or personification? She shuddered.

Her couch was glaringly out of place. There were candelabras along the walls and long strands of pearls and precious stones trailing from the ceilings; lush white fabric was falling in several places, creating a beautiful yet haunting scene. It felt like a ballroom. But there were no dancers. Just her, her couch, and the mask.

"Hello?" she called out.

In reply came the sound of an infant wailing. Sarah looked around startled by the sound. The familiar tug made her feet move. There was a child in need some where in this strange room. The baby wailed again. He sounded so young. So alone. The dress was absolutely ridiculous- she hiked the skirts up and managed to jog despite it. Stairs led down through falling fabric to a lower level. The baby- where was the baby?

This lower level had once been a place of respite: giant pillows and deep cushioned chairs were scattered around. On top of a faded peach colored pillow was a bundle. She was sure the baby was there. She hurried to it. Little limbs squirmed under the blanket. She lifted the bundle, a soothing coo on her lips, when the blanket fell away and a pig snout appeared. Instead of a baby's wail there was a high pitched grunt and a squeal. Sarah stood dumbfounded. The piglet was even dressed like a baby. It writhed in her grasp…

…With a start Sarah awoke. The dark grey of her livingroom was a contrast to the bright ballroom she had just seen, and her eyes blinked trying to focus. Her eyes were having a hard time cooperating though. She sat up, rubbing a hand across her face. "Jareth?" she called out. Her head was groggy. She tried to stand, but found that even her legs were having a hard time functioning. She stumbled half expecting to find the dress wrapped around her. Catching herself on her arm chair she tried to shake off the disorientation. Everything was so blurry. She called out for Jareth again.

Maybe she needed a glass of water. Maybe she needed to lie back down. She let go of the chair and more fell than walked to catch herself on the kitchen counter. The grey light caused shadows to dance. They swirled around her, gathering closer and closer, crowding her small apartment. The shadow dancers spun around her, making her dizzy.

There was a flash of light and one of the dancers came from very near her. There were hands and arms as the shadow took solid form. A deep darkness covered her. Something fine and delicate tickled her skin. Warm breath wafted over her face. "Sarah, breathe," said a voice.

How does one breathe? The thought seemed foreign to her. Her lungs struggled to remember how to inhale.

The voice spoke again, "Breathe! The Blessed Moon- come on!"

Her shadow dancer moved her roughly. A pressure on her lips. Then the same warm breath entered her mouth, pushed its way down her throat filling her chest.

Sharply she inhaled as all of the sudden her lungs remembered how to function. It burned all the way down her throat to the pit of her stomach. Her eyes fluttered open. Another deep breath. Black dots were scattered every where. She blinked them away rapidly.

Jareth was leaning over her. His eyes were narrow and his mouth set in a grim line. When she inhaled again, his face relaxed. She coughed.

"Thank The Fates," he murmured raising his eyes briefly to the heavens. "It's alright. Breathe deep," he encouraged her as she rolled to her side coughing.

She gulped. She was not on her couch. The fabric she was laying against was far too lush and velvety. It smelled of cloves and cinnamon. She inhaled that scent and relaxed, moving to her back once more and opening her eyes. The ceiling was stone with wooden beams. Where was she? For a frantic moment she looked for the skull mask in her lap, wondered if she'd feel layers upon layers of fabric tangled around her legs. She was relieved see her simple grey skirt and black shirt.

"What," she managed to get out, struggling to sit up. Now her mouth wouldn't cooperate: she pursed her lips, forcing the words out, "What… happened? Drugged?"

Jareth was kneeling next to her. Gone were the human clothes he had been wearing, instead he wore a black poet's shirt and blue cape. "That's exactly what happened," he said supporting her. He rubbed her back.

Sarah looked around. She was back at the castle in the library she had been in before. The lush piece of furniture she was on was a long chase lounge. The last thing she remembered was looking at the map with the symbol. She had then dozed off. She struggled to form the next words, "With what?"

Jareth moved to sit next to her on the edge of the chase. "Ague-Root," he replied and sighed. "It was placed all around your door and patio. Your body was fast becoming confused: forgetting how to walk, to breathe. The best thing is to take deep breaths and try to walk it off." He put an arm around her and lifted. "Easy," he said as her legs wobbled under her. She fell against him and braced her arms around his shoulders.

Sarah was half muffled against his shirt. He smelled like the chase, delicious, exotic. She fingered the soft material. "You…ok?"

"I wasn't there," he said.

Her eyes shot him an angry glare. Not that she was even sure he saw it, pressed up against him as she was. "What?"

"Walk," he ordered.

They began something like a half walk, half dance. Sarah's legs felt heavy. It took most of her mental concentration to lift them. Though she wouldn't be so easily put off from what he had said. "Where…did…you…go?" she asked.

Jareth led her across the room. Sarah breathed deep liking the way he smelled and grateful for her head clearing. They walked together for several beats before he answered, "Is your head feeling better? Good. You're going to want to be able to process what I'm going to tell you. You might even want to be functional enough to kick something. Come on." He pushed her up right, trying out her strength, holding onto her arms. Sarah stood without swaying. "I left to go investigate the last house," he said.

She nodded. "Last. House. You went there."

"Yes. I came back to check on you, could smell the blasted plant before I even reached the complex. Held my breath- popped in and out to get you."

Sarah remembered how upsetting the Ague-Root had been on the prior evening, how Jareth had swept her far away from it. He had braved it to save her. "That doesn't…make me want…to kick anything," she said her words coming more easily.

"No. But what I found at the house should." He reached around his back, under his cape, and pulled out a small photograph.

Sarah stared: it was a photographic portrait of herself. She was wearing a black robe and a graduation cap. "That's me," she said incredulously. It looked as if it had been clipped out with a pair of nail scissors, rough edges and uneven. "My high school graduation photo." She reached out to touch it.

He held the picture away from her. It was then she noticed he had gloves on. "I wouldn't. I'm not entirely sure it's clean," he explained. And then added as she swayed, "Breathe deep." He flicked the photo away and supported her again.

It was the emotions that rocked her than any traces of Ague-Root. Anger boiled under her skin. She swore she could literally see red, running down her arms and flooding her vision. If there had been a way to take that haze, concentrate it, and send it pell-mell over whoever was responsible for this nuisance, she would take full advantage. For a moment though she mumbled incoherent threats involving pig babies, bog water, and for good measure knobby toes, all in the attempt to regain some control.

"Teach me," she said finally. She raised her head and looked him in the face. "Teach me how to handle magic. You said so yourself: I'm not ordinary. If I can sense wished away and all those other things, then I should be able to do more, right?"

Jareth hummed as if unsure.

"I can't just sit around and wait for the next wished away or next attack."

"True." He paused and brought his fingers to his lips. "Let me in your mind. I need to know everything Sarah, including why you cannot remember the peach."

Sarah worried her lip. There were moments she would rather him not be privy to. There were thoughts and desires that she wasn't sure she would ever want to share with him. She squared her shoulders. "Do it."

Jareth smirked. "I applaud your trust. But I think for the moment we should seek refreshment. My subjects are aware that I have returned. And there are others who, will be most curious who you are- a situation that I am going to have to handle with some care. You are going to have to look the part. In your current dress you appear too human."

Sarah watched in astonishment as he snapped his fingers in her direction and her clothes all at once altered. Gone were the business attire clothes and in their place a pale green dress. The long skirt brushed the floor. Running her hands along the fabric it felt smooth as velvet. She lifted the skirt, finding herself in leather boots. Her mouth fell open.

Jareth smiled. "Green does your eyes justice. Though perhaps that skirt is too full." He waved his hand and the skirt lost its gathered extra fabric and two slits appeared, giving her legs more liberty to move. He nodded satisfied. "I haven't seen you thus dressed since your days in the park," he murmured. With a slight shake of his head he added, "I could kiss you again, precious one."

The time at the park. Sarah remembered her renaissance gown she used to recite in, play acting in the neighborhood park. She actually referred to it as her princess gown. "I'm going to have to act aren't I? Fool someone into thinking I'm Fae."

Jareth leaned in and took a kiss from her. "You're very convincing," he assured her. When he leaned in again, Sarah kicked at him with her newly acquired boots.

She smiled up at him and his furrowed brow. She said with all of the mock innocence she could rally, "A little goblin attitude to add to the mix."

On cue there was a clamor outside the door and arguing that could only be said goblin subjects. Jareth chuckled and then laughed out right.


	13. Chapter 13

_13_

 _Sarah_

If Sarah had ever seen herself in a literary character she always fancied herself a bit of an Elizabeth Bennet: quick witted, calm, and with a tenacious character that proved she could hold her own. She wanted her mind to be admired, and her sense of self to come from her own charitable acts rather than society's expectations. She was still young. She accepted this. Knowing that one has much to learn not only intellectually, but also on a spiritual level, where one might discover depths of their own character otherwise unknown, was she considered a mature thing.

As far as her comprehension of her abilities, her own powers, she knew that there was much to be understood about it. Peach or no peach there was reason for her to suspect that she could very well do more than feel a wished away. When enough time had passed that she responded to their need without confusion, Sarah had entertained the thought that perhaps she herself possessed actual magic. Back in the Underground once more, with the Labyrinth literally at the door step, she felt a tingling. She was back where magic quite literally lived.

She tried to push down all the anxiety and focus.

Once through the door of the study Jareth had put on the kingly demeanor in full glory. He had ordered food, kicked a small fuzzy creature out of his path, demanded various reports, and inquired whether or not one Stephen Nightwalker had returned from the Bog.

Sarah had fallen into step next to him, or rather attempted to. Passing goblins waved with recognition and beamed at her. "Hi Lady!" they had called out. "Hey fellas, its the lady who stormed the castle!" Apparently their last encounter was remembered with fondness.

"Excuse me," said one with a pot for a helmet. "Do you want me to send word of your arrival to his royal Prince of the Land of Stench?"

Shaking her head in amusement, Sarah at first turned slightly to ask permission from Jareth if her friend Hoggle was to be informed. She stopped though. She was after all supposed to be acting as a fellow Fae, on equal footing with his royal nibs. Or so she assumed. She noticed that Jareth was absorbed in reading some document. "Yes. Do so at once," she said to the goblin. "Please."

Instead of setting off on his errand with any decorum, the goblin bellowed as he ran, "Call for the Prince of the Land of Stench! A message for the Bog! Call for the Prince of the Land of Stench!"

Sarah bit her lip.

Jareth was at her side. "I have no need for Hogsbreath to be about," he said sourly.

"It's called common courtesy," replied Sarah. "You want me to be convincing, then I should have the right to make orders too."

"Indeed," he said after some consideration. He draped an arm around her shoulders and guided her down the passage. "You complained earlier that we, how did you put it, barely know one another. Am I right?"

"Yes."

He nodded. "Come see how the other half lives, Sarah mine."

Jareth held an evening court. Or rather he held one this evening for Sarah's amusement and to make up for his recent absences. This he briefly explained as he arranged for a seat to be brought near his throne for her to sit. Sarah cast her eyes around: the last time she had blown through this room in a haze of adrenaline and need as she searched for her brother. If anything said goblin bachelor pad this room was it. A keg in the corner. A full animal skeleton of unknown species on display in another. Piles of what she could only assume were dirty linens in various spots. It was still a horrific mess, but her presence had inspired some of the goblins to hastily begin cleaning up.

Jareth leaned back on his throne and called out for anyone seeking an audience.

Sarah leaned near, "And what matters plague the goblin realm?"

The doors to the room were pulled back and several small hooded creatures began entering.

Jareth smirked. "Not all of my subjects are goblins. Nor are the matters at hand always plague worthy." His fingers indicated the approaching group. "Colin what brings you back to my presence?"

The face of the figure was hidden by its deep hood, save for a long white beard. It's hands were tucked within wide sleeves. The effect reminded Sarah of a monk. It spoke in some language that apparently Jareth understood.

"Yes," he said nodding. "We discussed that parcel of land about a month ago. My answer remains the same: what the Labyrinth chooses to claim or give is at her discretion."

There was a response and several gestures.

Jareth shook his head. "That is impossible. I mean no disrespect to the Mighty Ursik and the Blessed Turnip, but I cannot force the hand of the Labyrinth. During our last discourse you led me to understand that your clan was well fed. Of course." The group turned towards each other for a private conference. Jareth beckoned Sarah close, "Gnomes. A particularly large clan that weighs its wealth in the amount of root vegetables they can produce."

Sarah leaned on the arm of the throne. "Root vegetables? Turnips? Radishes?"

"Hhmm. Unfortunately the Labyrinth recently annexed a portion of their land and it did not bode well with Clan Leader Colin."

"Why would the Labyrinth take their land?"

Jareth shrugged. "It happens from time to time."

Sarah's brow furrowed. "This might seem stupidly obvious, but did you ask the Labyrinth why?" She knew the answer before he spoke. Her level look spoke volumes.

Jareth glanced towards the group before answering. "She is her own entity. My power, my lordship here is to uphold her decisions."

"Yes, but,"

Finger to his lips, he shushed her as he turned his attention back to the gnomes. They spoke again. Jareth nodded. "I have no objection to that arrangement. A word of warning though Colin: joined wealth, must be shared wealth. I will not have warring clans over root vegetables." The group bowed and exited.

Jareth shook his head and tapped his chin with his fingers. "It's an ongoing dilemma. Of all the absurd things."

No one else immediately took advantage of the late court time. Sarah ventured to ask about their own problem, "About the photograph you showed me earlier. Is it sort of like knowing someone's true name?"

Jareth's eye brows rose up. "There is some surprising depth of knowledge." He then smiled in admiration. Taking her hand he continued, "It is similar. Your photo, your likeness, was found in a drawing bag."

"This person wanted to find me specifically?"

"Not just you." Jareth's eyes took in the room. Sarah watched his expression: it teetered between indifference and agitation. When his eyes became riveted to one spot she turned to see what he was focusing on: another man was coming along the main hall. She turned back and gave him a questioning look. Jareth, very low said, "I need you to act now." Then he began to kiss her fingers.

Sarah felt her stomach flutter. In her peripheral she saw the man enter the room. "Coy or completely submissive?" she asked.

Jareth looked at her keeping his face near her hand. "A little of both," he whispered against her skin.

Sarah caressed his cheek and matched his lazy smile with one of her own. She'd play his game. But not without making him equally as uncomfortable, and she certainly wasn't going to remain in the dark about who this man was. Tit for tat, she thought as Jareth seemingly surprised at the new comers arrival, said aloud, "Stephen, I see you've returned." With practiced indolence Jareth leaned back into the far side of his throne and bent his leg up.

The man's dark hair fell over his face as he spread his arms wide and bowed. Sarah noted that instead of a cape he opted for an elaborately patterned blue and gold frock coat. When he raised his head she saw his close set eyes widen. "My lord," he began, not knowing whether to look at Jareth or her. "I took full advantage of the lesson you were teaching me and used as little magic as possible to return from the Bog. I arrived yesterday."

Jareth nodded.

Stephen Nightwalker finally recovered himself and with another bow said, "I did not know you had company. Stephen Nightwalker, my lady, at your service."

Sarah made to answer with a pleasant remark, but Jareth spoke before her, "Yes, I am entertaining an old friend."

No introduction. No title. Nothing. Sarah let her hand slip from his fingers and fall very deliberately and very slowly onto his other leg. Her fingers quite firmly rested on the inner most part of his thigh. If he wanted her to act, then he was going to have to give her stage room. She pulled out the first flower name that popped into her head and said, "Sarah Dandelion. And I thank you." Act like a royal, she told herself, act like Jareth's equal. "And what lesson do you feel his lordship was having you learn?" she then asked.

Under her fingers she felt muscles tighten. She smiled to herself as Stephen Nightwalker began to tell her about how though blessed with natural abilities one must not rely on their magic; one must also have spent time sharpening other senses. His trek from the Bog back to the castle allowed him ample time to ponder many things. Jareth sat still. Nonchalantly Sarah moved her hand down towards his knee as if administering a casual lover's caress.

"And," finished Stephen with enthusiasm. "I am also pleased to inform my lord that I have given much consideration to my familiar."

Jareth cleared his throat. "And what speaks to you now Stephen?"

"Birds, my lord."

Sarah clearly saw Jareth's lips twitch. He nodded his head. Abruptly he sat up. "Unless there is something pressing, I bid you goodnight."

Stephen's eyes were his tell all: they darted between her and Jareth in blatant curiosity. He recovered though and bowed. Jareth rose and offered his arm to her. "Lady Dandelion," he said briskly. He escorted back through the way they had come in.

As they walked a series of passages Sarah tried to ask questions, to engage him in any sort of conversation, but she was repeatedly ignored or answered with grunts. He stopped at a door which he flicked open and stood as if waiting for her to go in. A quick glance showed her that it was a bedroom. "Before you get defensive these are your quarters," said Jareth. It was the first he had spoken since quitting the throne room. "There is an adjoining door to my own." He turned as if to leave.

"That's it?" Sarah asked.

He looked his shoulder. "What- you expected a goodnight kiss?"

"I thought you'd want to talk." And yes, she thought, I thought you would try to kiss me.

She closed the distance between them. Reaching out she gently tugged on his arm so he would fully face her. "You asked me to keep letting you in. I agreed to let you read my mind," she reminded him in a soft voice. She'd avoid this Stephen Nightwalker's name for now at least. "Tell me about the drawing bag you found with my photo inside."

"It's name alone should be enough to tell you what it's used for. Yes, you were being targeted. The Ague-Root, the fire: someone means you terrible harm."

This was something that didn't surprise her. It merely confirmed her fears. "You said though that this person wasn't just looking for me. There was something else. You. There was something that belonged to you."

From behind his cloak Jareth produced the other item. Sarah stared at it. Her mouth went dry. "An owl feather," she murmured.

What had she done to deserve this? She must have asked herself this question thousands of times since this ordeal began. And really what had Jareth done? Oh he was brash and sardonic and at times so egocentric she wanted to pull her hair out, but he also expected her best and with every taunt wanted her to meet his challenge. He was also protective of what he cared for. Respectful of things he didn't quite comprehend. So now he too was faced with someone who wanted him dead. Dead.

Sarah looked sullenly at the feather. And then," Birds!" she shrieked. She hadn't meant to. Her brain and her mouth had been over run with emotion at the revelation.

There came a clattering sound from some where nearby and voices. "Ssshh," Jareth hissed practically pushing her through the door. He shut it behind him and leaned his back against it.

"That cannot be a coincidence," Sarah said, ignoring the fact that they were now shut up together in a bed room. Ignoring the fact that moments ago she had been making unnecessary intimate contact with him. That hours before he had kissed her and promised to continue kissing her. She ignored all that. He was in trouble. "Nightwalker," she bit out.

"You continue to impress me, Sarah mine." Jareth glared at the floor.

She was ready to grab him, bind and gag him, and throw his body into one of Jareth's oubliettes. She told him as much.

Jareth smiled crookedly. "I share your sentiments, but an owl feather and a photograph are hardly evidence enough. Especially since he is a High Court darling."

"I figured he was something of an apprentice the way you two were talking."

"Oh he is that. But I didn't take him on. He's a bloody nuisance. You see my dear, even though I am a king (and a goblin one at that) and I make my own rules and am allowed a good deal of freedom, there are in fact governing bodies above me. In recent years these individuals have been dissatisfied with me."

"But enough to want you dead?"

"Appearances would make it seem so."

Sarah gaped and threw her hands up in the air. "How can you be so calm? You should be livid!"

Jareth banged a fist against the door behind him, cutting her off. "I am!" he snapped. He took a deep breath. "I am," he said again in more controlled tones. "I'd like nothing more then to water board him over the Bog if it meant keeping you safe. But Sarah I don't understand any of this. Still!" He pushed himself off the door. "With every new piece of information, with every revelation, I seem to go deeper and deeper into the unknown."

"I know," she agreed. She forced herself to calm down. "So what do you plan on doing?"

"Keeping you close," he answered.

Sarah reached for him and put her arms around him, resting her head against his chest. She'd stay close. They were in this together.

Keeping to the old code, Sarah slept alone in the room. She passed the night in a dreamless sleep. It was welcome though. To lay down and fall in to a deep slumber with nothing to plague her, no pig children, thoughts of boney toes, or fires: just sleep.

In the morning she realized it had been three days since the last pull of a wished away. The symbol was incomplete, but growing stronger. At breakfast with Jareth she managed some toast, her stomach too knotted to eat much. She watched him reading some correspondence, sipping coffee: managing to be in control when so much was out of control. She found she admired this.

Following breakfast Jareth took her arm and said they were going some where safe to explore her mind. With the wave his cloak the kaleidoscope of colors flashed before her eyes. It was still just as dazzling. Sarah blinked. They were in a court yard surrounded by tall green hedges. There was a giant sundial on one side and a stone chair that one moment resembled a heap of broken stone and the next haphazardly stacked books. Sarah recalled a wizened old wise man who had sat there years before. "Our own intellectual with an annoying hat," remarked Jareth with a knowing nod. "Yes. I know whom you speak of. He's away on holiday at the moment, or rather his hat is. Please don't ask me to explain how that works." He took her hand and had her sit on the stone chair.

Sarah smoothed her dress and took a deep breath. Jareth fixed his two toned eyes on her. He reached out and touched both of her temples. "Relax," he said. Sarah saw the world explode into bright white.

 _Author's Notes: call me all sorts of things, but really this needs it's own next chapter. Very important business and all that. Also, I do try my best to edit, but as I've mentioned before I have three off spring under foot and some times hiccups go unchecked. Plus there is always other goblin mischief afoot as well. You all are lucky I'm writing in English and you don't need to resort to an online translator on ancient Gaelic to get the meaning of what's being said (though for those who are into that sort of thing, dictionaries and foreign languages, I did do just that to my readers in "Second Chance at Happiness." Actually that's where Jareth acquired his last name: Choblyn. Charming Welsh word for, you guess it, goblin.) Also I might add that before any shout of "I knew it!" go echoing victoriously about your room or cafe or library, wherever your WiFi maybe, that we are indeed in the Labyrinth where nothing is what it seems._


	14. Chapter 14

_14_

 _Jareth_

Jareth sent the word "peach" into Sarah's subconscious, searching for anything that she associated with the fruit. Initially a few quick snap shots of her eating a peach pie as a young child and another of her being at a supermarket. Then, nothing. A white slate. Jareth stepped into the space. It was neither warm nor cold; the distance from horizon to horizon was all at once infinite and pressing. He turned in a slow circle examining the whiteness. There should have been more. This room, this space in her memory banks should contain the moment Hoggle gave her the peach, the dancing, snatches of song; even the moment when she broke the spell.

Nothing.

He took several steps further into the emptiness. Ahead he saw Sarah appear. This morning she had opted for a gown of blue, minus the long slits. She looked like her name: princess. Currently she seemed unaware of him: she stood, staring at one empty spot. He watched her raise her hand and with a finger pick at a patch of white. There was a twang like a broken lute string, followed by a reverberation of ripples from the point she touched. Jareth felt it deep in his core. She did it again and this time the white pealed back. Across her face colors swirled and points of bright light danced. She went up on her tip toes and reached towards the opening. "No Sarah," he spoke aloud. "I wouldn't touch it."

She stayed her hand, but continued to gaze. "What is it?"

He moved to her side. "Time. It's beautiful, is it not?" It was like watching creation and destruction simultaneously. How she had managed to pull back the veil surprised him. His Sarah was so much more than she allowed herself to be. "The place where everything exists. Even our minds." He reached up and pinched the opening closed. "That would be a different lesson all together."

She blinked as if coming out of a trance. "So, no peaches," she commented looking around. "I could tell you how one tastes." At once Jareth tasted the fruit's juices in his mouth. Sarah's hand touched her lips in surprise.

"We are within your mind Sarah," he explained. He swallowed the sweet tang. "What you recall will manifest here. Why don't you think about Hoggle?" he offered.

A scene took shape in front of them: her old bedroom with the red canopy and stuffed animals; her and Hoggle were laughing. "I don't remember what we were laughing at," said Sarah moving near the figures. She waved her hand at the dwarf's face and saw her fingers pass through him. "I just remember being happy."

"Go back. Back to the Labyrinth, back to the Bog of Eternal Stench," he said.

Jareth watched her close her eyes and concentrate. The menagerie of memories moved about, the characters jumping about or disappearing all together, until Sarah stood at the edge of the bog. Her companions- the dwarf, the rock caller, the little fox- were all with her. Jareth suddenly felt very hungry. At this point she had been in the Labyrinth for several hours. The image jumped and the group was walking along a wooded path.

"We were hungry," said Sarah. She opened her eyes. "And Hoggle, he…No. He wouldn't have given me anything to eat; he knew better." Her mind treated the movie like a film projector: she hit fast forward and the scene played out.

Jareth pressed, "What did Hoggle give you?"

Hoggle offered her his empty hand. Empty. Then the film crinkled and fuzzed. Sarah's face grew frustrated as the memory made no sense. "He didn't. We got separated."

Jareth reached his hand out and stopped the memory. He forced the players to rewind to the moment Hoggle extended his hand. He knew what Hoggle had done. He, Jareth Choblyn, had ordered him to give Sarah the peach. He studied the palm of the dwarf's hand. Extended- empty. Closing- Sarah's hand in his. What had the little scab done? Crinkle. Fuzz. Fuzz. Crinkle.

"It's not here," he murmured lowering his hand. With a resigned nod he turned towards Sarah. "You need my memories. Give me your hands." She had full confidence in him. It was evident in her calm demeanor, in the way she offered her hands to him. Jareth fought down the brief twinge of vulnerability and nerves. He closed his eyes.

Kneeling before her in the stone chair, Jareth felt her fingers press against the side of his head. She came in gently. He forced all other thoughts away, all distractions the lot of them, and focused on the moment when he saw her enter the ballroom. He had prepared an elaborate costume for her, a dress as expansive as a full moon, near bridal white with delicate details. Attire fit for a princess.

Inside the memory he felt Sarah move away from him. With the memory came the longing, the possessive drive to make her stay, to forget all else and want him alone. Slowly he opened his eyes. Sarah approached the memory of herself. "This, this dress," she said. "I've dreamed about this dress." Turning she followed her gaze and looked around at the dancers. Her eyes came to rest on Jareth. "Are you here too?"

Jareth let the memory play out around them until he appeared in his blue jacket and diamond accents. Sarah watched as he guided her in a dance. Jareth lost himself in the memory. Part his own creation, part her dreams this spell had been cast for multiple reasons. Yes he had wanted to distract her. To win the game. For the first time he had actually bucked at the Labyrinth's designs. But he had also been smitten with her. Her belief in his kind, her fierce loyalty, her unruly stubbornness, her passionate nature- all such traits he knew would make and mold for a perfect companion. It never once occurred to him how young she was or how much human life she had yet to experience. She was a gorgeous creature that he desired.

He looked from the memory to the woman. She was still the same Sarah; older and a bit more wiser, but still Sarah. He was acutely aware of how much he still wanted her.

"This is how you saw me?" she asked. She was standing in front of her self. "I was this gangly, naive girl yet you dressed me up and presented me as royalty to a bunch of other Fae."

"You were never gangly," he replied. "I believe the dress proves that."

Sarah smiled tightly and shot him a reproving glare.

"I saw you as one of the most beautiful creatures I had ever beheld. Still do."

Jareth watched as his memories slowly began to move in reverse. Sarah pulled away from his embrace, moved back through the dancers, and exited the ballroom. Before he could intervene, Sarah had full control of his subconscious: she saw herself pass through the thin membrane, a brief flash of colors as time stretched it's self around the spell (after all he had taken time from her); she saw Jareth perched on an open balcony observing her through multiple crystals. Just as Jareth was mesmerized by her, so she became enamored with her own beauty, her own strength of character. This became clear on her face.

"You little minx," he commented at her shoulder. His real voice startled her and her control of his memories slipped. Jareth took it all back. Returned the room to white. "You really want to know how I feel about you?" he asked allowing a little edge to his voice. "Here. Understand that memories are both what we experience and the little day dreams we keep to ourselves."

They stood in her apartment in front of the map with the symbol glowing red. Jareth was kissing her, but instead of her asking him to stop, she was encouraging him. Her skirt was bunched around her waist, one of his hands under the fabric, between her legs. She was raggedly breathing and simpering. Through his eyes he forced her to see that he would do anything to hear her filled with such pleasure. It pleased him to please her. That he was excited because it was her.

Next to him Sarah exhaled slowly. She hummed.

The scene altered. Jareth saw himself leaning near her, but unable to touch her. Felt his stomach tighten and an overwhelming sense of inadequacy fill him. He had never been with anyone before. Why had he waited, saved himself for someone so intimidating? The sensible thing would have been to have least gotten the initial, bodily preliminaries over with some ordinary boy, maybe then he wouldn't be so concerned about it hurting and he could concentrate on what was supposed to be a pleasurable experience. Pleasurable. Surely she would know things he wouldn't, have expectations. Someone who has been alive for… how old was she? Too old for him. She was toying with him. He was turned on. He was scared. Jareth realized he had been made privy to Sarah's deepest thoughts. She had forced him to see her.

He stood amazed at how easily she had begun manipulating the moments, the memories in this space.

Reaching out he placed a hand on her shoulder. "I am old Sarah," he said. "By your human accounts, quite old. I have desired and yes I have loved, but in all my years never have I wanted a companion."

She turned to face him. "A companion?"

"Just another word for equal." He held her chin. "I see in you the same drive and fire that first drew me to you like a moth to a flame." Forcing her head to tilt up he took a kiss. "I could mold you into a powerful sorceress." Her lips were soft as he took another. "Raise you up to rule by my side." A third kiss, quick and firm. "All the while being absolutely helpless to deny your every whim."

In this place of memory each touch could only be compared to the one time they had actually kissed. By the third time Jareth felt the blood pounding in his ears. He could also feel a dull ache in his arms and legs. Outside this place their bodies were growing stiff from sitting so long. They needed to release their mental hold. But he didn't want this to end. If he let her go, she'd only push him away once more. He felt her fingers sliding away from his head. The way he saw it, he'd have to act fast and possibly do something foolish.

The warm sun beat down on his back and he could hear the sounds of nature once again. Sarah was leaning away from him. Without words he pulled her to her feet and kissed her. At the same moment, he pushed magic from his being into hers, searching deep inside her, for her soul. This was the foolish part. In finding her soul, tasting her essence, he'd be forever bond to her and she to him. Sarah's tongue explored his mouth as the bonding happened. It was sweet as if he had tasted fresh honey. He knew she tasted it too.

She caught her breath and breathed his name.

"Sarah mine," he murmured back. "Release me from the old code."

Stubbornly he saw her bite her lip and slightly shake he her head. "Too much at stake," she said.

Perhaps she didn't understand. He kissed her again. "You taste that? That is me Sarah. The deepest, recesses of my soul. And I'm giving it to you."

Her hands were in his hair. Her cheeks were flushed. When she spoke her desire was evident. "You would do something utterly foolish," she reprimanded him softly. She kissed him, her lips moving over his.

"Utterly delicious," he countered. "And necessary."

Brushing his hair from his eyes, she looked at him and sighed. "Patience was never one of your strong points. Oh, I should be angry with you."

"Yes," he agreed.

"Calling you all sorts of rotten names."

"I always liked the way 'scoundrel' sounded." He kissed her.

"Scoundrel," she said her tone playful.

He hummed and slightly nodded his head, continuing to tease her lips.

She snipped, "Cheat. A dastardly cad."

He scowled down at her. "That's too low. I have the highest respect for the female form. The ways I could make you moan, Sarah mine. Just release me." His hands provided a small demonstration. "Sarah, you call me cruel!" he exclaimed when she still refused.

"Jareth I can't. Don't you understand that I can't?"

"No. I don't. I just did something that a grown Fae can only do once in a life time and you're," he paused frustrated.

"Acting like a human?" she prompted.

"Exactly!"

She dropped her hands from his face. "I just shared with you all of my insecurities, my doubts, and you figured that giving me part of your soul will some how erase all that?"

"It was an act of trust."

"It was a means to an end, so I would go to bed with you."

Jareth stared down at her. He had figured on her being upset. He had figured on her even misunderstanding his intentions. But he had not counted on her still painting him as the villain. He sighed and shook his head. "My soul would not be required if I just wanted to bed you. I too shared private things with you. You saw into me. Did that mean nothing to you?"

The ire that had flared in her eyes abated.

"What is it Sarah? Why is it that you cannot give yourself to me?"

Her arms fell away from him. She struggled with something. "I didn't share with you the guilt that I carry. What I did to my brother; then being with you- it wouldn't be right. Maybe I'm reading the universe wrong, but every time you and I get close, every time I let you in, something goes wrong."

"Wrong? I ask you to imagine recent events without me and ask yourself if it would have been better? I for one see a lot of right. What if I hadn't been there the night of the fire? Or when there was Ague-Root on your doorstep?"

"What if I had never made the wish in the first place?"

He ran his fingers through her hair. "But you did. And we have not been able to forget one another."

Sarah ran her hand over her eyes. Then blew air sharply out her nose. "One day you're threatening me, the next you're basically proposing marriage. At least I think that's what this whole soul tasting thing means….?"

"In very human terms."

"This was not why I allowed you into my head today, you know."

He chuckled. "I know we have other matters to discuss, yes. As far as we are concerned Sarah mine, I ask that you give me a chance."

"Then I ask, that you stop trying to force me."

"I make no promises to play fair. But," he hastened to add. "I will provide full disclosure, be absolutely transparent when asked. How much you want to know though will be entirely up to you."

"So back to the original matter at hand. Why didn't I have the same memories?"

"Oh I do believe Hoggle has some explaining to do."

She worried her lip. Jareth found this little nervous trait endearing. "He never responded to my arrival. I know you think he's a coward, but he has always been a friend to me."

"Hhmm. We shall see. Come. We should return. Hungry?"

"Actually yes. I'm starving."

"Expending magical energies is much the same as physical. You have so much to learn."

Jareth worried that there would not be enough time to teach her. Oh there were ways he could manipulate time, interfere with the natural order, but magic senses magic. Whatever force was after them, it was eating up their time. He felt the head long rush of disaster; the danger they were both in as clearly as he could taste Sarah's soul. He glanced at her as arrived back inside the castle. As long as she understood how much he cared for her, his life meant little.


	15. Chapter 15

_Jareth_

 _15_

Marriage. Jareth let the word hang in his mind. The union of two people in a personal relationship. Marriage proposal. The act of requesting a union between two people.

He hadn't proposed. The word marriage hadn't even occurred to him. Not that he was opposed to the institution. A life long companion, someone to share in his life with; all very welcoming notions. But the human habit of a ring, bending down on one knee, and other such traditions those were foreign to him and his ilk. They, the Fae, typically hand fasted, which was a bit of a ceremony in its self; if walking your chosen one to your chambers in front of everyone was considered a ceremony. That and what he had done with her, a sharing of souls, that was also common when a Fae desired to take a mate. So in very human terms he had indeed married her. They just hadn't consummated anything. Yet.

What he had done, what the giving of his soul really did was create a bond between him and Sarah that would protect her, tying her not only to him, but to the Underground as well. It would strengthen her magic, give her access to powers that were vast, and in the end hopefully give her the confidence to become the Goblin Queen he saw in her. Provided the universe decided to treat them gently, he might even have the chance to make love to her. He smiled to himself. After all he had promised to hasten the day she would run out of excuses.

What it had not been was a means to an end. That he was adamant about. For him the opportunity to be with her, to know her intimately, was to show her he cared. He thought that had been more than apparent when he had shown her the daydream in his subconscious. Then giving her access to his soul he had been sure would have finally gotten the message across.

She was so stubborn though. And this guilt she carried- goodness, if he beat himself up for every rash action he had ever made, he would never have a moment of happiness or peace. But Sarah could be practical to a fault. And sensitive. Insightful. Passionate yet not vindictive. She was exactly what he desired.

In his bed chamber he raised his hand towards the adjoining door and sealed her room. If the pull of a wished away happened tonight, she wouldn't be able to leave. She'd still feel it- there was nothing he could do to stop that. But at the very least she would be safe. And further more no one would be able to enter her room. Should he need to venture forth for any reason then he would have peace of mind. He'd deal with her temper. He smiled. Probably even enjoy it.

He kicked off his boots. The exhaustion of the day caught up with him and he laid down on his bed without undressing. The castle was quiet. Outside a breeze rustled some branches near his balcony. Swish, swish, creak. He let the sound lull him to sleep. Swish. Swish. The sound reminded him of the swaying of fabric. How a long skirt trailing across the floor would sound. Swish, swish, creak. He slept.

Swish. Swish.

"Jareth."

Swish. Swish.

The wind must have picked up. The rustling was louder and insistent. He wondered if a storm had blown in.

"Jareth!"

Startled Jareth opened his eyes. Groggy, he squinted in the dim light. "Sarah? What is it?"

The woman leaning over him shook her head. "Not Sarah," she said and with a wink leaned on an elbow near his head. "Though in this form I probably look a good deal like her."

The head next to his certainly looked like Sarah: long brown hair, a slight pinch to the tip of her nose. She even smelled like her. His body reacted to her and the fact that she was lying next to him on his bed. The smile though, that wasn't quite right. Jareth sent his magic out, trying to feel about the room.

She scrunched her face and laughed. "No need to be on guard. Your magic won't sense anything. Well, anything alarming anyway," she said.

"I think I'll be the judge of that," Jareth replied dryly.

She sighed. "I suppose we should have talked sooner. But you know I was really waiting for you to initiate things. I mean I've been around for far longer than you, surely the polite thing would have been to come 'round and actually introduce yourself." Another sigh, longer more dramatic. "No time like the present though." She sat up and nimbly plopped herself across his middle. "Ghads, you are skinny," she then commented.

The Seven Graces grant him patience, who was this woman? Her long dark gown was bunched around her thighs. True he hadn't sensed any danger, but this was ridiculous all the same. "Lithe is a better word," he countered, wracking his brain. He gathered his magic back into himself. He decided it would be best to let the mystery woman reveal herself. "Very well, I'm Jareth Choblyn, Kin-,"

"King of the Goblins, I know." She fiddled with her hair. "Still no guesses who I am?"

"A very inquisitive pixie or sprite, I'd wager. I don't take kindly to any subjects breaking into my chambers. That's very distracting," he bit out when she wiggled against him.

A look of genuine surprise crossed her face. "I'm not used to anatomy," she said. With a grin she put her hands on his torso and leaned forward. "I see what all the fuss is about now. But," she leaned back. "I do see your point- very distracting indeed."

Jareth swallowed hard. "If you want to talk, then perhaps you would kindly get off me and we both might find it easier to focus."

With a shrug the mystery woman climbed off of him. "Well," she said standing up and walking around. "You're wrong you know." He sat up, observing her. "I'm not a pixie, nor a sprite. Nor Sarah. I'm not even a subject."

She stopped near the foot of his bed. In the dim light her skin changed. Instead of flesh the skin on her arm grew foliage and moss, and a series of eyes blinked at him from her shoulder. It rippled. Across her chest a series of pale pink miniature roses bloomed. Another ripple and her eyes changed places with her mouth and switched back. Then she was Sarah again. "Know me now?" she asked.

Jareth felt his lips fall open and a shudder go down his spine. In all his centuries of ruling never had he imagined that this would happen one day. "You're the Labyrinth," he breathed.

She smiled that most unsettling grin.

Some how he stopped himself from sputtering. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"We need to talk," she replied. Her grin vanished. "Five years ago you took a peach from one of my orchards and presented it as a gift fused with a spell." She came very close to his face, nearly touching nose to nose.

Jareth raised an eyebrow, drawing his head back. "And I should have asked for permission first?"

"Sarcasm is not helpful right now," she chided. "You gave Sarah Williams goblin fruit." She did touch his nose with her own. "And then allowed her to go home. Very, very sloppy that."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Jareth inhaled sharply. If the entity was suggesting that he…His eyes grew wide.

"Ah, I see understanding flitting across your brow," she said, continuing to smush their faces close together. "You smell alot like your soul," she then added.

There was no use in maintaining any level decorum any more. Jareth did sputter at the sudden change in conversation. "My soul? I never gave part of myself to you."

Her fingers moved around his neck. "I took it. I wasn't going to let just any Fae over see my lands. I tasted your essence, came to know your soul, and found you worthy."

Just any Fae? Jareth had been given the Labyrinth, the goblins specifically made his subjects by order of the High King. He felt her fingers feel along his hair line. Oberon only knew how long the Labyrinth had actually existed, but he wondered how much the High King had known about this entity. And what would she have done if she hadn't found him worthy? As it was he found her fickle and willful. She finally leaned away from his face. Her fingers though were now touching his ears. It tickled. It was almost as if she wanted to know what a bodily form felt like. He wanted to swat her away.

"And then the mortal girl went and messed with your judgment," she went on before he could do anything. "Not that I didn't like her. You needed a strong counter part to help you out around the kingdom. You're lucky I'm a rather benevolent entity and allowed some of me to pass on to the girl. Though she's probably not much of a girl any more, is she? No? Too much time has gone by. She has been in the Above too long, living among the mundane. Her magic is unruly. She could have gone stark raving mad, you know." The woman's face grew quite stern and she dropped her hands from his neck.

Jareth ducked his head as the revelation hit home. He had been so angry in the beginning; he had been ready to do her physical harm for interfering with his job. And come to find out he was responsible for the whole ordeal! The thought had never occurred to him. Whatever he had offered her, whatever he had granted her, he had always assumed that when she broke the spell everything would be gone. Negated. Off the table. Reversed. Invalid.

The woman spoke again, "Is it normal for grown men to do foolish things when it comes to women?"

Jareth rolled his eyes. "I do believe Sarah would concur."

Another pause. "She's lost her humanity Jareth Choblyn." The entity was most serious. "She tasted my fruit. Has my essence inside her. As well as part of yours if I'm not mistaken. How do you live with so many emotions and desires running rampant through your systems?"

Jareth bristled. "You should talk. You change direction, alter paths, and take land without explanation."

Her skin rippled. "I tend my own. I don't need to explain myself to someone who uses three organs to make decisions." Her eyes flickered from his head, to chest, to his lap poignantly.

He felt his brow crease. Then very softly he started to laugh. This seemed to please the entity. "We digress, yes?"

"Indeed." She nodded. "Sarah belongs to the Underground now. And like you I protect what is mine. You both are in danger." She moved from the bed and walked towards the balcony doors. They opened before her allowing her to movie outside.

Jareth followed. Outside the air was cool. From this high vantage point he could see the Goblin City- a few lights flickered in the squat, lopsided houses. Beyond the land moved away in slopes and hills. Across the plains the Labyrinth lived. Yet here stood it's spirit next to him. The entity looked on her face soft. "I love this place," she said. "You've respected me through so many centuries. I don't want to loose you."

Again Jareth found himself struggling with this woman not being Sarah. He crossed his arms across his chest to keep himself from reaching out and embracing her. "I've sensed the danger. Just when I think I've narrowed in on a possible explanation everything goes pear shaped. Like you showing up tonight." She smiled. Definitely not Sarah, he thought. "Tell me, Labyrinth, does the danger come from within our own home?"

The face grew tense. Her eyes scanned the horizon. "Not from within. We are all connected therefor we are all responsible." Her voice grew very faint, "We failed some where."

"We?"

"All of us." Her flesh rippled again, sparkling one moment, growing leaves the next. "The balance has been disrupted."She was a woman once more. "A tainted mortal was in between. Magic was used in between. Was there something left in between?"

Just like the Labyrinth to use riddles. Jareth was about to press for more, to ask about Stephen Nightwalker, when once more her skin rippled. Yet this time she did not correct the morph.

"This form is tired," she explained. "And I grow weary of being confined."

One moment he was looking at her, the next she was gone. Jareth looked around only to find himself glaring at the horizon. With a start he woke up in bed once more.

It was morning. Jareth felt anxious and out of sorts. All he really wanted was a bath. Perhaps then the Labyrinth's nocturnal riddles would seem clearer. He snapped for his male servants and moved into his bathing chambers, ordering a hot bath. As he pulled his shirt over his head he considered the visit from the entity: We failed some where. Had she meant him giving her the fruit? Or letting her return to the Above? Someone was knocking. The goblins looked questioningly at him. He waved them off to go see whoever it was. Probably Nightwalker come to bother him with more goading nonsense about birds and who was this Lady Dandelion? Was she staying long? He threw his shirt in a corner. He needed to relax and to think. From a collection of bottles he selected a purple one: lavender oil. He would add it to his bath water.

The two goblin servants were arguing back in his bed chamber. With a shrug he finished undressing and got into the tub.

The arguing became louder. "But-!" he heard one goblin exclaim.

A door banged.

"No!"

"He's indisposed!"

"I don't care! I shall speak to his majesty at once."

That was not Nightwalker. Jareth leaned his head back against the lip of the tub and waited. This was going to be wonderfully entertaining. Not exactly helpful, but entertaining. Sarah came crashing into the wash room a goblin attached to one leg and another fumbling for her arm.

"Jareth!" she yelled. "You locked me in my room!"

"And I should have locked my own door as well it would seem," he replied. He gave her a mock salute. "Good morning."

One of the goblins heaved a deep breath and said, "Tried to tell you lady."

Sarah's eyes took in the scene and flushed a deep pink. Jareth in turn lazily appraised her in her robe and nightgown. Yet she didn't leave or turn away. With a wave of his hand Jareth dismissed his servants from the room. "Yes?" he asked her when they were alone.

Her eyes focused on a spot just above his head. "You can't just go locking me up. I've been taking care of myself just fine. If you can't at least respect me enough to trust my own judgment, then send me home now."

"May I finish bathing first?" he asked flatly.

Her voice raised. "You had no right to lock me in!"

Jareth set up, sloshing water. "I had every right. An individual with fluctuating powers, being hunted, staying under my roof? I think I was being very practical."

She snapped, "Control-freak is more like it."

"Sarah if I were being a control freak you would have been confined to my chambers."

Forgetting herself, Sarah advanced further into the room. "I am perfectly capable of making rational decisions."

"Oh yes, like the fine one you're making now. I have half a mind to dunk you in this very bath." He reached out and gripped the edges of the tub as if he meant to make a lunge for her.

She flinched. "You wouldn't," she said.

"I'm in a mood this morning Sarah mine."

Next to her sides he saw her hands ball into fists. Through clenched teeth she said, "This is all because you wouldn't stop and talk to me, include me in your decisions." And with that she turned and left.

Jareth wasn't having it. She and the Labyrinth telling him that he should initiate things; that he needed to be the communicative one. Ha! He thought bitterly, slapping a hand in the now tepid water. Both of them were just as capable as he at talking or asking questions. He found himself climbing out of the water and reaching for his dressing gown. He had been kind. He had been generous. He had been burned, threatened, kicked, and not even allowed a few private moments to bathe in peace- Sarah Williams was not going to get the last word.

 _Author's Notes: And because there has been a lapse of silence longer than usual, chapter 16 is ready. There are three things that every fanfic at some point has: fluff, fan-service, and smut. I figure they are all acceptable provided they give some character insight and eventually move the story's lil'backside along. There are certain fanfics were as the reader you can't help, but think, for the love of all that's pure and holy- he'll develop ED if she keeps messing with him; or she'll have terrible cramps if they fool around many more times! Jareth does not have the patience or the selfcontrol of a saint, nor does Sarah have the will or piety of a nun. That being said, enjoy chapter 16._


	16. Chapter 16

_There's a drumming noise inside my head_  
 _That starts when you're around_  
 _I swear that you could hear it_  
 _It makes such an all mighty sound_

 _-"Drumming Song" Florence and the Machine_

 _16_

 _Jareth_

He snapped his fingers at the adjoining door and the chamber door. The click of the locks were distinctly heard. Sarah, reaching for the handle, stopped short when she heard it. The line of her spine straightened and her head drew up. Good, thought Jareth hearing her breath catch, feel a little trepidation in your current situation. As he weighed his options he felt his bare skin prickle in the cool of the room. Water dripped lazily to the floor. The fabric of his robe clung to his arms and shoulders.

When she neither spoke nor turned around, he said, "Yesterday I offered to be as transparent as you would have me be. Full disclosure to any question you asked. Yet," he paused, tying the cords of his dressing gown in a tight cinch and staring at the back of her head. "I find no questions asked. Instead I am once more the villain," he spoke the term with mock amusement. He took a few purposeful steps towards her. "I pride myself on my control. I control a kingdom. I control magical powers. I control my very being, bending to your demands."

The words were short and curt. He was not so much angry as frustrated and fed up.

"It's about respect," she said barely glancing over her shoulder. "You deciding what I do or do not do is controlling."

When she refused to turn around he came behind her, gripped the collar of her robe and gave a forceful yank. The material caught and bunched around her elbows which she had bent in defense. With the fabric twisted around a fist he held her arms pinned. He heard her small yelp. He spoke low, "If I did not respect you, I would have lost control on you the very first night."

"You nearly did," she reminded him.

"You stopped me. Control." His fist wound the fabric tighter. His fingers ached under the pressure. "It's exhausting."

Sarah's hair smelled like citrus and spring time. Jareth inhaled deeply. She swayed back against him only to turn her head away. Hand on her waist he held her close. "Aren't you exhausted Sarah mine?"

A slight dip of her chin. "Yes," she whispered.

"Tired of fighting?"

"So very tired."

He released his hold on the robe and brought his hands to her arms, moving downward he pushed the item of clothing off of her. It crumpled to the floor.

"Oh Jareth," she groaned. "Why? Why do you need this? What is driving you? Why me?"

She wasn't pushing him away. She wasn't demanding he stop. No, she was asking questions. Transparency now? The thought amused him. He had shown her many things. Had shared with her deep parts of his being. And she wanted to know why?

His hands were moving over her stomach, feeling her muscles tighten and quiver. His face was buried in her hair. When she shifted against him, he caught his breath and made a sound deep in his throat. "Sarah," his voice was husky. The thin fabric moved in caressing strokes under his hands. "Why do I keep you safe? Why do I taunt and tease you? Why would I give you my soul?"

Sarah twisted her head up and brought a hand to his neck. She pulled him into a kiss, turning her body to his. Jareth took her mouth, feeling the softness of her tongue and then biting the tip of her lip. She nipped back. One of her hands had slid down his body. Jareth felt himself tighten at the prospect of her touching him. She stayed her hand though instead gripping the cords of his robe.

"Jareth," she said her voice small and airy. When she spoke her voice shook, "Is this love?"

Jareth raised his head and looked down at her. Her lips were parted. Her cheeks flushed. All of her dark long hair was tousled. She was achingly gorgeous.

"Stop thinking so much." Gently he pushed her against the door. Reaching down he moved the fabric of her night gown up and found her leg. "Just feel." His hand traveled along the length of her thigh. He stroked her skin. Sarah's eyes closed and she exhaled slowly. He hummed approvingly. "Tell me to do it again," he pressed. She did. He touched her intimately.

"Tell me you need me," he ordered taking delight in her undoing.

Instead of begging she brushed his hand away and then pulled her body upright against his, her arms wrapping around his upper body and pressing into his shoulders. He felt her hips tilt, then roll against him. The effect was instantaneous: the sensation jolted through him. She kissed him again, pushing her lips firmly against his. The taste of honey flooded his mouth. She had opened the channel between their souls. "You need me," she countered.

In response he pushed her against the door once more and hitched one of her legs over his hip. For a few moments they kissed, pressing their bodies, pushing and tugging in sensual movements. Her finger nails teased him. His teeth grazed her.

Slowly he dropped her leg and began to move away from her. "Come here," he coaxed. Despite the playful smiles they exchanged he saw her glance at his bed with a nervous twitch. For a brief second she worried her lip. "Come," he said again. He sat on the edge of the bed and told her to put her legs around him. She straddled him, her night gown bunched around her waist. She met his eyes: there was trust there. Jareth took a deep a breath through his nose. He could sense her just a few painful inches from him. A few more moments of control. He had to. Gently he placed a hand to her face. "I know you're innocent still and I understand your fears."

Her green eyes looked down. Her brow creased. As if to reassure herself she said, "I want this. I want you."

A small smile. "I know. This- this moment- is special." Dropping his hand he cupped her breast and kissed her through the fabric. "You are so beautiful," he complimented her, nuzzling her. The weight of her body moved against him.

Sarah's hands were between them moving the fabric of his robe aside. "I'm trusting you," she said. Her hands were touching the bare skin of his sides and stomach.

Jareth realized that she was consenting, being more than just amenable. He suddenly felt an over whelming sense of relief, followed by welling up of a strong emotion. "As I am you," he replied. In her loss of control, he would in turn be powerless. Each of them vulnerable, exposed, and trusting. His heart pounded in his ears.

She used him. His body was hers to command. He found himself against the bed, her arms braced on either side of him, her own glorious undoing occurring by her own power. Then she gave of herself and allowed him her body. She lay on top of him, her breath warm against his chest. He dared not speak or even suggest she move. Sarah. His Sarah.

Some moments passed. Jareth felt her move and slide to her side. He lifted his arm allowing her to curl next to him. For himself he felt at peace. Content. A welcome feeling. He glanced down: she was fingering the edging of his dressing gown. She sighed. Then caught his eyes and squirmed under his gaze. "What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he replied with a chuckle. "Just admiring. Though I wouldn't mind if that night gown was off you."

An amused expression crossed her face as if it just occurred to her how much of her modesty she had held onto what with her night gown and all. And how little of himself was covered. She blushed a very deep red. Quite unexpectedly she moved away and off the bed. Jareth asked what she was doing.

"The doors are still locked," he called after her as he heard her foot steps. It was quiet. He raised himself up on his elbows to look around. From the washroom he heard running water. Sarah was in the doorway. "I owe you a bath," she said. Still blushing profusely she pulled the gown over her head.

In the water Jareth was pleased to see her comfortable with him. True it hadn't been a traditional consummation; her womanhood was still intact, but her body was his now. He watched her lean over the side of the tub searching for another sponge. He wondered how long, or if she had indeed already put the peach together with her powers. Sarah understood a good many things, especially for having educated herself in the Above; surely she knew all about goblin fruit. He mentally berated himself for not having thought of it in the first place.

Here they were, new beginnings for both of them, and a probable end very close. He shook the dark thought away. In the now, at this very moment, she was his. And he liked the way she looked in his bath.

He leaned towards her and took the sponge. "Here, turn around." He began to wash her shoulders. It was such a lover thing to do. He allowed himself to smile at her up swept hair and the few damp strands. "I had an interesting dream last night," he began.

"Oh?"

"I dreamed that the Labyrinth came to my room. Yes, like a person. A woman actually."

She nodded her head at that. "Naturally a woman."

"Naturally," he agreed. "I think it was really her. She told me things that only the entity would understand. She knows about you. Your name, what you did. What I did. She also knew about the peach."

"Goblin fruit," said Sarah. "You gave me goblin fruit. That is actually the real reason I was so angry earlier."

Jareth cleared his throat. This transparency business was uncomfortable. "With me?" he asked.

"Yes and no. I," she paused. "I was, am angry that I didn't have my memories. So much would have made more sense. Yet I understand now why you did what you did. It was a very Fae thing to do." She gave him an amused grin over her shoulder. "It was your way of saying you loved me. Much like this morning."

Jareth sat back against his side of the tub resting his chin against his hand. "You haven't said it either you know," he said with a smirk.

She turned towards him, knocking knees and brushing legs in the confined space. Her green eyes danced. "Humor me and do something human for once."

"I love you, Sarah Williams."


	17. Chapter 17

_17_

 _Sarah_

Sarah was surprised at herself. All of her misgivings, her reasons for not being with him had been broken down. There had been (and still were) many questions about how this life was going to work. She had a family in the Above. There wasn't a possibility of her simply walking out on them, allowing to them forget or worse think something horrible had befallen her. There was also her developing powers, as well as Hoggle to consider. His involvement stung. Then there was this force that wanted her dead. Wanted Jareth dead. Jareth was right- she did over think things. Here in the bath water she was doing so all over again.

She had also been tired. Fighting him off was just one more on a already long list of stresses. It had been liberating to loose control with him. It was reassuring now to hear him say he love her.

She moved near him. When he looked at her so impertinently yet with that smirk, she felt like she could kiss and tease him until he begged for her. She kissed him.

He hummed deep in his throat. "Food," he managed to say around her lips. "I'm no good at the moment."

Sarah laughed and moved away.

A towel firmly tucked around her, she made to quit the room. She lingered at the doorway though and looked back at Jareth. He was towel drying the ends of his hair,moving from the mirror to his closet. He looked like a man, all his limbs and features were masculine. Sarah smiled to herself. He felt like a man too. The strange parlor of his skin, the way his eyes changed, and the prickle of magic that ran just below the surface were all captivating. Everything about him had been quite satisfactory. His gentleness, his willingness to be sympathetic to her fears had only made her want him all the more. He had called her beautiful. If she had been more confident in the moment she would have called him striking.

Though he was still sarcastic. And cocky. There was much about him she did not understand or know. Parents. Family. Friends. She gave him another long intent look. She had gotten him to say "I love you", but she had not returned the words. Perhaps, she reasoned to herself, the words weren't as important to a Fae. For years she had fantasized about being with him. In those daydreams his control issues were manifested as protective. Is that what he was- protective? He cared for his subjects. He cared about the Labyrinth. He professed he cared, loved, her. A manservant had appeared and the two of them began assessing an outfit. Sarah moved away.

In her room she dressed. She focused on the buttons, hooks, and ties trying to calm her mind. A closet of her own had appeared filled with various outfits and accessories. She even chose a rather plain blue gown to wear, something subtle and non-distracting. There was much they needed to deal with. And while she would have loved to have lingered, even leisurely get coaxed back to bed again, it simply wasn't practical. At any moment a wished away could happen. Hoggle still hadn't appeared. Hoggle- what had he done to her? Noghtwalker could start asking questions. She was in the process of french braiding her hair when Jareth came in.

"I could have a lady's maid arranged," he offered watching her.

"I'm fine," she replied working her fingers through the strands.

He watched her. "For now."

The words held future promises. There would be events, parties, court days- all times where a lady's maid would come in handy. She saw him in his finest- fitted breeches, tailored coat, and glimpses of blue sapphire. And her next to him in a complimenting gown and matching precious stones. They would be resplendent. In her seat, Sarah swallowed. If they survived all this. This calm couldn't last.

"About the peach," she said. Jareth leaned against the wall. One eye brow rose up. "I've always been told that goblin fruit changes mortals. It's why I can feel children isn't it?"

"Yes."

"There are also stories of people falling asleep for absurd amounts of time or others going completely crazy until they have more." She paused. She almost asked if he had ever given a mortal goblin fruit before. Quickly she decided though that she didn't want to know. "What changes exactly should I expect?"

There was a clattering from his room. "I ordered breakfast sent up." They moved back through the adjoining doors. He remarked that he wouldn't try leaping from any tall places expecting to morph into a bird.

"Then what should I expect?"

There was a small table set up and two covered plates. The smell of food struck her senses hard: she was hungry. Jareth poured coffee from one pot. From another tea. "You prefer tea if I recall rightly," he said handing the cup to her. "Truth be told Sarah, I haven't the foggiest what to expect from you. You are truly unique." They sat at the table. "You didn't just eat goblin fruit. The Labyrinth imparted some magic to you."

"So I was right about the Labyrinth being involved in my change." Sarah had long since suspected this. "Did she say anything else about me last night?"

"That you are powerful. And," he paused. He drank from his cup. "And that you belong to the Underground."

The pause hadn't gone unnoticed. There were other finer details about eating goblin fruit that the two of them were skirting around. Yes she was able to feel wished away. She had developing powers. But magic needs magic to survive. When he said she belonged to the Underground, it meant far more than being under its protection. It meant this was her home now.

Sarah met his eyes across the table, wondering if he suspected she had already figured that bit out. "Powerful," she echoed the word. "I haven't done anything too crazy since I've been here."

"On the contrary you have. Yesterday you were able to manipulate the time in my mind, pull on my memories at will."

"I shouldn't have been able to do that?"

"I've only ever seen a very mature Fae, one of my caliber, do so with such ease."

Inside his mind, sharing his subconscious, Sarah really hadn't even contemplated what she was doing. She saw the memory, wanted to know more, and simply took hold of it. The emotions had really only been the tricky part. The moment she saw Jareth twirling his crystals, filled with the intense desire for her, that was where she had become lost. Had there been anything else? Yes. Jareth had cautioned her about time: that place behind the white. That had been an intriguing sight.

One of his caliber- now there was a phrase. Jareth had in a simple statement intimated she might be more than his equal. The food in her mouth had a hard time going down.

"You're a bit unruly though," he commented. "You need guidance. The Labyrinth was very clear on those points."

Sarah then asked him to take her through the whole dream experience with the entity. She suppressed a laugh at his discomfort when she had straddled him. Then listened wide eyed as he told her about the final riddle.

"Something left in between?" repeated Sarah.

"'A tainted mortal was in between. Magic was used in between. Was there something left in between?' Those were her exact words."

"I'm obviously the tainted mortal." Jareth raised his brow. Sarah continued, "I was given the peach and sent home without proper guidance or knowledge. I was in between."

"You were also left in between."

"But not any more. I'm here now. The Labyrinth seems to think that there's still something left. But what?"

The food had helped. Sarah was in the middle of setting her tea cup down when the pull of a wished away hit both of them. Jareth started and immediately began to rise from his chair. Sarah's hand shook so violently she was sure she was going to snap the handle. Looking up she saw him pulling a cloak around his shoulders. Reaching towards her, he took her hand. "Don't even think about locking me in my room," she teased, but with a threat to her voice. He admonished her to stay close. Holding to him they stepped from the bed room and into the swirl of color.

The next step landed them in a dingy alleyway. One way was a busy thoroughfare with vehicles and pedestrians. The other was a series of back entrances and turns. For a moment Sarah was struck by a hundred human things- the smell of the exhaust from the cars, the clothes on the ; lingering grease in the air from nearby fried food. She shook her head and looked for the trail. Jareth moved with caution, frequently checking for any scents or traces of magic. Sarah noted that this particular pull wasn't as strong as some in the past. The ones connected with the symbol had been over-powering, blocking out reasonable thought. Jareth nodded when she told him so. "Yet it lacks almost all urgency," he replied. They stopped near a screened door. Through the mesh wafted the smell of fresh bread. "If there is a child here, you would think that there would be some angst."

There was a change in the air and a prickling sensation across her arms. Jareth pushed her behind him expecting some form of magical attack. A few yards from them another Fae appeared with brown hair and a flashy frock coat.

"Nightwalker," exclaimed Jareth. "What in the name of the Fates are you doing here?"

His apprentice looked relieved at the sight of his master. "There was a wished away. I came as soon as I was able. It was odd though- your trail was a bit off."

"Off?"

Nightwalker nodded. "Rather like it was being diluted. I am glad to find you safe. Lady Dandelion?" he then asked seeing Sarah.

Sarah felt Jareth's arm tense. "I wanted to see how it worked," she lied smoothly. "I've always found the premise of wished away children intriguing."

Nightwalker batted his eyes rapidly. He inclined his head in respect. "My lady. I hope my master and I will appease your curiosity. I see the trail," he then said indicating a spot further down.

Keeping slightly behind Jareth, Sarah followed them. True there was no urgency, but the prickling sensation had not calmed down. Her hair on her arms still stood upright. The two men were engaged in a terse conversation: Jareth voicing his displeasure at his apprentice not asking before appearing, and Nightwalker in turn insisting that he was duty bound to respond to every aspect of his lordship's job. It ebbed and flowed between courtly manners and long term familiarity. At one point Nightwalker even addressed Jareth by his first name. Sarah clearly saw a vein in his neck bulge.

Jareth ordered Nightwalker to secure some random corner, calling it a "blind spot." He turned to look at Sarah. "Sarah, are you alright?" he asked.

"It's every where," she murmured. The prickling was all over her body, racing up her arms and going over her scalp in waves. "Don't you feel it?"

He tilted his head. "That's just magic. You'll grow accustomed to sensing…it," his voice trailed. His eyes scanned the immediate area.

Sarah flexed her hands. "There's too much of it."

"Way too much," he agreed.

Sarah's eyes went to the trail of the wished away. It moved very near Nightwalker. The amount of magic around them was too high. More than two grown Fae men and a woman like herself should be producing. Their stalker, the one who meant them harm, had grown stealthy. This realization made Sarah's stomach fall out and she feared she would throw up.

Where had Nightwalker gone? Sarah gazed over Jareth's shoulder. He had gone around the corner. Suddenly he was coming back: walking in an eager, purposeful stride. His was raising his hands in their direction.

Sarah had seen alcoholics. She had passed by homeless men and women who would cut you if they suspected you might steal something that belonged to them. There had been rooms with overdosed care givers. Each she had faced because a child had needed her. Something had always guided her around the harm. She felt the same sensation rise up inside her.

Nightwalker's hands.

Her fingers warmed. The prickling seemed to concentrate in her ten appendages.

There was too much focused purpose in his hands.

"No!" she shouted pushing Jareth aside with her elbow. Her hands rose up in a similar manner to Nightwalker's stance. Her only thought was to protect Jareth. From her extended arms a bright ball of light rapidly concentrated and then shot out in a blinding beam directed at Nightwalker. The man took the force full in the chest, rocketing backwards to slam against a dust bin.

It had taken ten, maybe fifteen, seconds from the moment she had shouted to the light blasting. The force of her shove had only caused Jareth to bend in a half crouch. Sarah stared at her hands. She was vaguely aware of some sort of siren going off and Jareth moving near her. What had she done? She looked up at where Nightwalker was lying: his body bent in an awkward position and his head rolled to one side. He wasn't moving.

"I killed him," she said, panic rising.

Jareth grabbed her hands, examining them. They were unmarred though trembling slightly. When he looked at her he seemed to want to say a thousand things, his lips moved silently only to then firmly close in a grim line. With a huff he left her and went to Nightwalker.

"I killed him," she said again.

He was kneeling over his apprentice, fingers pressed to his neck.

The sound of the sirens finally penetrated her mind. It reminded her of a car alarm. She had used magic, alerting any other Fae in the vicinity of their presence. Had any of the human individuals noticed? She glanced back down the alley. No one seemed concerned. Everyone was still about their business. Hurriedly she went to Jareth's side.

"Time to go," Jareth said straightening.

"We can't just leave him!"

"Of course not." He touched Nightwalker's shoulder and grabbed Sarah's hand. His cloak fanned out around the three of them.

This time the passing colors were disconcerting. If Jareth had yelled at her, maybe she'd know how to act or react. Or think. When they touched down again they were in his study. Nightwalker slumped to the floor. Jareth stood, staring down at him. She asked if he was alive. "Oh yes," answered Jareth. He was calm, nearly amused. "This complicates things." He sighed. "What did you do?"

She looked at her hands again. "It just sort of shot out of me."

Jareth touched her arm. "Find your center. Concentrate inwardly." His was voice was even and soothing. "Remember, deep in your stomach."

Sarah tried to look inward. It was what he had instructed her to do the night they had encountered the Ague-Root. She took a deep breath. "There was so much power. It was building in its intensity and surrounding us. Nightwalker- he was coming at us. His hands were raised in our direction. He…he was going to do something." The panic overwhelmed her. Tears stung her eyes. "He was going to hurt you."

"Easy Sarah. My apprentice is many things, but not an assassin."

Her brow furrowed. "It was a trap."

Jareth hefted his apprentice under the arms and dragged him to a chair. With the aid of magic he levitated him to the seat and bound his hands behind him. "It's not like there wasn't trust issues before," he said surveying his work.

"Now what?" Sarah asked.

"I'll interrogate him."

She scoffed. "Throw him in an oubliette. Yes, that would be very satisfying," she snapped when he grinned lopsided at her. Nightwalker groaned and his head rolled. "What about probing his mind? You know, searching his subconscious?"

Jareth shook his head. "You have to full permission to enter, otherwise things can turn messy. If he wasn't a high court darling I wouldn't have any reservations."

"Since when do you play politics?"

"I don't just want to know who, I want to know why and how many are involved. I'm telling you Nightwalker couldn't plan any of this alone. I damage him and I could be left in a dead end again. No, we have him now. I intend to keep my one link to this business alive and talking."

Nightwalker seemed to be coming round. His head raised and he struggled to take a breath. He coughed. Watching him Sarah felt her hands growing warm. Jareth reached for her and gave her a meaningful look. She couldn't loose control again.

Jareth turned his attention back to his apprentice. "Nightwalker."

The man opened his eyes only to wince in pain.

Jareth spoke again, "Nightwalker, can you hear me?"

Nightwalker's senses finally cleared. He looked at his master, "My lord! Oh, thank Oberon, you're alright." He coughed and strained to take a deep breath. "I think we were attacked. My chest hurts." He tried to move. "Say, what's this? My arms- why am I tied up?"

Jareth raised himself to his full height, squared his shoulders. "Stephen Nightwalker, I perceive you as a threat. You are now considered an enemy of the state."

Nightwalker's already strained features paled. Was that fear of discovery for his treachery, or fear of what the Goblin King was capable of? Sarah wondered. "Jareth Choblyn, you can't be serious! I have been nothing, but loyal to you these past two years!"

Jareth scoffed. "Please, I know that you go running back to the high court with every little fanciful tidbit you collect about me."

"That was hardly being done in secret. Are you genuinely mad over such a petty thing?"

Sarah shook her head. "So you admit it?"

Nightwalker seemed to just register her presence. "Of course I do. It's not something to hide. Jareth, he was practically begging for someone to look in on him, so the High King did what any sensible Fae would- sent in an informant."

Instead of just talking to him, thought Sarah with an internal long suffering sigh. Were all Fae such fickle communicators?

Jareth's eyes narrowed. "You come into my home, gather unsolicited information, probe my job, threaten my very being- hardly petty matters Stephen! What I want to know is why?" He bent near. Sarah felt a ripple pass through the air. It pressed around them like a heavy blanket. The strong force seemed to radiate from Jareth. "Why is my job so immensely interesting? What do you think to gain by tampering with wished away?"

Nightwalker stared wide eyed at his master. "What in the name of the Fates are you talking about?" he exclaimed. "I would never..I- tamper? Mess with a wished away? Children are sacred. That's absurd! Never!"

Jareth drew back. The strong force continued to press around them. Sarah could only guess that Jareth was just as unconvinced as she was.

Nightwalker's eyes darted to Sarah. "If you should be accusing anyone of anything unsavory, I'd be talking to her!" He nodded sharply. "This Lady Dandelion!"

"You wouldn't say such things if you knew better," replied Jareth.

"She attacked me!"

Jareth's hand flicked up and his fingers splayed. For a horrible second she thought he was going to strike Nightwalker. Instead he uttered a one word command, "Sleep!"Nightwalker slumped in the chair.

 _Author's Notes: I once had a reviewer who always compared my chapters to food. It was wonderfully endearing. I love reviews. I love knowing how the words are effecting you or your thoughts on whodunit or why something is the way it is. Honestly it's quite encouraging. And even if I don't respond to you in the author's notes I do have a habit of reaching out to people on PM. I hope all my precious darlings are well._


	18. Chapter 18

_18_

 _Sarah_

The Labyrinth moved. From the study's balcony Sarah watched the maze alter her paths in more than one direction. At first she thought it was a trick of the light, the afternoon sun causing a glare. Then it happened again: a wall moved serpentine, looped back on itself and became a dead end. Why do you change so much? She thought. Are you looking for something or do you just get bored? Or…is it just the way you are?

She spread her arms and leaned on the railing.

Behind her in the study Stephen Nightwalker still lay in a deep enchanted sleep. Jareth kept a close eye on his vitals, assuring Sarah that one could slumber thus for ages and wake up none the worse. Both of them seemed at a bit of a loss how to proceed. Nightwalker denied using wished away, but admitted to being a nark. She knew that there were ways Jareth could devise to make him talk; ways that would leave the brain intact, but would inflict terrible pain. Part of her truly believed that Nightwalker would deserve every ounce of discomfort that Jareth could extract from him.

The feel of the stone railing was warm under her hands.

Why would someone interfere with the wished away? Why would someone make a person like her, like Jareth, think that a child was in danger? Nightwalker had called children sacred. Jareth by his own actions considered his job important. As far as Sarah knew the three of them-her, Nightwalker, and Jareth Choblyn (yes, that was the name that Nightwalker had used: Jareth Choblyn. The Goblin King had a last name)- were the only ones capable of feeling and responding to a wished away. Did that make them special? Was it such an all encompassing task that no other Fae desired it?

Other Fae were at least curious enough about the Goblin King's habits that an informant had been employed. What had Nightwalker said- that Jareth had practically been begging to be checked in on.

Too many questions! She slapped a hand against the railing. And not enough answers!

Think Sarah, she told herself, find your center and concentrate. Go back to the original question: why would someone target them?

In her limited years of experience she had saved hundreds of children. Their needs, their emotions welled up inside her and drove her to save them. Was there any motivation on her part or was it simply a compulsion? Often she thought her of brother. How scared he must have been. How confused. Then she would also think of her young self. She had been so selfish. A baby needs love. Love had saved her brother. "Love." She said the word out loud.

No it couldn't be as simple as that. Love was not some force, an energy that could be harnessed. This was not a story written by the Brothers Grimm or a romance where true love conquered all. Love might be a key element, but there had to be more to it. That just didn't make any sense.

She turned around and looked back inside the study. Jareth was standing in front of Nightwalker both of his arms raised, a green glow encircling them. A faint blue light began emitting from the apprentice. A minute passed and Jareth lowered his arms, the lights extinguishing. He didn't seem pleased with the outcome of whatever he had done: he crossed his arms and leaned on a hand. A knock in the study room door broke his concentration.

Sarah turned back to the railing.

"Hoggle is here," said Jareth.

She wasn't sure how this conversation was going to go. Hoggle had a lot of explaining to do. With a nod, Sarah moved towards the study. "Is there some where private I can talk with him?" she asked.

Jareth glanced at the still slumbering Nightwalker, then looked at her for a long moment. "Don't you want me to be there?" he asked.

She shook her head.

He took her to a private room furnished with several chairs and a couch. For a moment he regarded her. "Call if you need me," he said. He stepped away and was gone.

Sarah took a deep breath. Hoggle. She had always been excited to see her friend before, comforted by his companionship. He was her tie back to the Underground. For the longest time her only link to Jareth. Sarah looked around the room with it's rich fabrics and simple elegance. Now she was a part of the Underground.

Originally she had thought to do this alone because that was the way these things were done. A woman who wants to be admired for her own strength, goes at it alone. That and Hoggle and Jareth never saw eye to eye on anything. Now as she stood waiting though she sort of regretted her decision. She was very much afraid that Hoggle was going to break her heart. With a small knock, the dwarf poked his head in the room. Sarah smiled as he glanced warily around. "Is we alone?" he asked.

"Yes, Hoggle."

"Good. Ha!" He shut the door and smiled. "Now then look at you. You's look like you a regular princess in such a gown. The blue suits you. Come, hows about a hug then eh?"

Sarah knelt down to the dwarf's level and held her arms open. It felt good to hug him. If just for a moment to feel like everything was alright. His arms barely came up past her shoulders. He always had a faint earthy smell to him. Despite being banished to the Bog of Eternal Stench both him and Sir Didymus had always managed to avoid the putrid liquid.

"I's glad to see you alright then," he said patting her arm. "I's tried reaching you on the mirror."

Her mirror! All of her belongings were still in her apartment. The magic mirror, her cold iron knife, her clothes- all of her earthly possessions. Their empty to-go boxes were probably still on the table. Then there were her keepsakes: drawings Toby had given her, a book from her mom, and other such things. The memory of the Ague-Root and the events that followed made her worry her lip. What if her building had been marked with the triangles and had been burned down? She pushed the thought away.

"I haven't been home in a few days," she said pulling herself free.

"Why?"

"Well, things got complicated after we last talked."

She stood up and went to the couch to sit down. Hoggle paced about the room. Sarah imagined that he probably wasn't a guest very often in the castle and at most had only seen the likes of the throne room. He hobbled over to a table where several small statues were on display.

He grunted. "Not surprising. You sure we is alone? Then I'll says it: the king always complicates things. I's always tried to steer you clear of'im. He ain't trying to pull any tricks on ya is he?" he then asked giving her a stern look. His bushy eye brows pulled down.

"No. He's actually been… very good to me."

"Bah! By the way, I did some digging about the peaches like you asked. Not much to goes on really. Most runners who come through the Labyrinth don't go any where near them. I can't even remember the last mortal who came nears'em, eh-he-ha," he laughed and shrugged.

So he was going to bring up the topic. Probably wanted to see how she reacted. Sarah smoothed her dress. "Why don't you like him?"

"Eh?"

"Jareth Choblyn." Saying his full name left a tingle on her lips. Hoggle eyed her. The familiar use of the king's name had thrown him. "Why don't you like him?" she asked again.

"He's a bully," he replied.

"Some times," she agreed.

"He's always picking on me."

"You never stand up to him."

"He's a tricky sort too. Sorta Fae one should never trust."

Sarah nodded. "You do have to be specific with him. I have learned never to assume anything with him. But, you know," she paused gauging his expression. "he's never lied to me. We've been at odds before- just this morning actually. But when I demand the truth, he tells me it."

Hoggle's eyes had slid back to the statues. One of his hands was absently tracing the shape of one. "So you have forgiven him that whole brother business then, eh?" he asked.

"I've told you before that I take just as much responsibility for that night. Besides, I've learned a thing or two about him recently. I don't see him as such a trickster any more."

"Bah!" he let out quietly.

"What? You disagree?"

"I's known his majesty a long time. I know, I know, all Fae are a fickle sort. Believe me, I's know. But he doesn't do things fair." He shrugged. "Don't matter any more, I suppose," he then muttered.

She had been waiting patiently for her friend to come clean. She had been waiting for several days. "Hoggle, I know about the peach." She stood up. "Look at me: I'm here in the Underground again, dressed in gifts from his majesty, defending him; and I know about the peach. I understand the peach. I want the peach." Pausing she took a deep breath and calmed herself. Hoggle's face had redden. "But I don't know why my memories of the peach are gone. Why Hoggle?"

"You's my friend Sarah," replied Hoggle. "I would never do nothin' to harm you. That peach, that stupid, cursed fruit, was meant to slow you up, make you loose!"

"It meant so much more than that."

"He made me give it to you!"

Sarah shook her head, exasperated. "You have no idea what I saw or what I experienced after I had taken a bite. What did you do Hoggle? Where are my memories?" she demanded.

Hoggle's face contorted in strong emotion. "Gone!" he shouted back. "Drowned in the bog! I's maybe a simple dwarf, but I knows me some magic too."

"How could you?"

"I's your friend! I did what I thought was right!"

"Why?"

"You's never needed to know!"

Sarah stared. "You did it to protect yourself?" she asked. "Just like when we met Sir Didymus! You ran off! Just like when I met Ludo the first time! You are still a coward!"

"And he doesn't deserve you!"

They were both shouting now. Red faced and eyes stinging, she said, "Neither do you." And she told him to leave. With a stomp of his foot he left banging the door behind him. Sarah stood for a long moment with tears sliding down her face.

Thinking that it would best to go to her own room and cry in private, she exited the doors. She took two corners blindly before realizing she had no idea where in the castle she was. Mumbling something about wishing she knew where to go, a goblin fortuitously came around a corner. The hairy creature took pity on her, held her hand, and said, "This way lady." It didn't matter that the goblin opened Jareth's side. Once through the door she asked if the king had any Dandelion Wine and could a bottle be brought up?

How could Hoggle have been so selfish? What good did he see in taking her memories? And why, ghads, why did no one think she was capable of making her own sound decisions? When the servant brought up the bottle, she poured the first glass, and in her anger spilled most of it. She couldn't choose her friends wisely, she couldn't save Jareth, and now, she couldn't even manage a glass of wine. A few moments of simple forgetfulness was all she wanted. With an effort she poured another and took a good mouth full. It was just as delicious as she remembered. It wouldn't take much to be completely numb.

Bottle in one hand, glass in the other she went through the balcony doors. It was late afternoon now. She took another sip. The alcohol in her stomach warmed and burned a bit, reminding her that she had missed lunch. What was she going to do? How hard would it be to get Sir Didymus up here? The fox might give her some better insight into Hoggle's decision to take her memories. The thought that perhaps all of her friends were in the conspiracy together made her swallow another mouth full and top off her glass from the bottle. Her head began to feel a little light. "Easy Sarah," she said aloud, recalling how forward the wine had made her before.

That was where Jareth found her: feeling a tad light headed and incredibly grumpy. He hefted the bottle, nodded, and took the glass from her. He drank as well. "Do you know how hard it is for me to get drunk?" he asked. She glanced sideways at him. "I'd have to consume some three bottles of Dandelion Wine before feeling any of the effects. Something in my makeup gives me a high tolerance." He paused to refill the glass and drank again. "Lovely," he commented.

Sarah took the glass back. "Hhmm." She drank. "I take it you haven't made much progress with Nightwalker then?"

"I'd say my time with him was about as productive as your time with Hoggle." The glass passed between them again. "Though for the time being he is having a nightmare." She felt his eyes watching her as she took the glass again. "What did Hoggle have to say?"

"That he doesn't like you. You're a trickster. And that you don't deserve me."

"Such venom from someone who made his living being a spy."

She bit out, "He's still a coward!" And she took a deep drink. With a scowl she let Jareth take the glass away. She thought about arguing with him, demanding the whole bottle. Instead she listened to his suggestion of finding something to eat.

It wasn't long after eating something together that Jareth left her again. He said he was going to search for inspiration. Otherwise he was going to have to resort to physical as well as mental harm to Nightwalker, and while a bit of torture wasn't beyond him, Jareth felt that there had to be a more productive way. From his balcony Sarah watched him fall and smoothly change into an owl, flying out towards the Labyrinth. She envied his ability.

In silence, in the gathering twilight, she stood in the doorway watching him go. If the Labyrinth could talk to Jareth, if the entity had laid claim to her, then surely there had to be a way for her to communicate with it. She glanced at the railing half hoping to see a mysterious female figure. Nothing. Alright, she had frequently chastised Jareth for not communicating, for not coming right out and asking questions. She pulled herself away from the doorway and walked out. "Last night," she paused. She realized she hadn't exactly addressed it, or acknowledged its power. No. Pomp was not was not the way of the Labyrinth. "Last night," she began again. "You spoke with Jareth. You told him about how there was magic used in between, that someone, a tainted mortal, was in between, and then that you were concerned that someone or something was left in between. I…We don't understand what that means."

With a sigh Sarah accepted the silence as her answer. She turned away. A sudden, cold breeze and an instant blocking out of the sun, made her hesitate. She looked back. The balcony had developed stairs that led down into a quickly gathering mist. Sarah felt the fine hairs on her arms stand on end and an electrical current run over her body. Gingerly she took a step towards the opening: the stairs plunged down into white. A brief flash of blue haze and a slither of red. Another step and the mist cleared enough for her to see the next five steps.

This could lead to answers, she told herself. It could also lead to my death. Both thoughts warred inside her. If the Labyrinth was parting the veil of magic for her, if she was moving beyond time, doing so alone could be dangerous. But to hesitate could be fatal as well. Gathering the electric currents to her center, Sarah began to descend into the mist.

She moved for some time never deviating, just a constant downward angle. Her mind wandered to her first time in the Labyrinth. The long stretch of narrow passage that seemed to go on and on, forever running towards the horizon. Something Hoggle had said tickled her mind: "Not, if you ask the right questions." When she had stopped and asked for an opening, the Labyrinth had introduced her to the worm, and indeed had given her an opening in its walls. Sarah stopped mid step. The right question. "What was left in between?" she asked out loud.

Despite the pressing mist her voice was loud and clear. Out of the corner of her eye she saw another flash of blue. Before her the mists began a slow separation, showing a straight path. Far ahead, stood a little figure in shorts and a hooded sweat shirt. A child! Sarah gasped and took off running. Her hand reached for the little shoulder. Words died on her lips as the material fell in on its self and the figure crumbled to the ground. The smell of smoke wafted from the pile. Startled and horrified at the implications, Sarah stumbled back. What weird, macabre rabbit hole had she stumbled down this time? With renewed confusion, she stared at the ground and watched as bare foot prints began to walk away from the pile of clothing.

 _Author's Notes: **KBates,** yes, she is rather insightful. I like my women characters to be intuitive. **Sintar** , you always compliment my love scenes. I still have saved that piece you did for "Thirteen Days." **Elfala** , I couldn't picture the Labyrinth talking any other way. I'm glad you're enjoying the mystery._


	19. Chapter 19

_19_

 _Jareth_

Flight was a freeing motion. Never had Jareth questioned his desire for his familiar to be a bird. The final decision to be an owl had been more of the universe directing his choice than his own. His character had always been a warring combination. It usually manifested as totally egocentric- he knew this. The owl in him noticed a scurrying mouse and swooped downward. The human in him resisted though, pulling himself back to his intended course.

Intended course- that phrase was full of irony. He still felt like he was stumbling in the dark. The only thought that gave him any direction was Sarah. She was at the center of the matter. As long as he kept her safe.

He had spent the last hour with The Dame Blanches of the Forbidden Forest's lake. That lot knew how to get men, mortal or Fae, to do exactly what they desired. Fearful of the wrath of the High King for harming one of royal lineage, they treated Jareth with mindful respect. The danced their slow waltz among the trees, giving him a wide circle. Though he doubted not that one moment of weakness and they would have pulled him into one of their cold, stiff embraces, enticing him into an eternal dance. The feathers on the owl's back prickled at the thought. Yet he had gone to them for help with Nightwalker. In the end they asked the Goblin King to bring the Fae man to them and they would extract what he desired; they would look directly into the heart of this Nightwalker. Now Jareth was returning to the castle to discuss this option with Sarah.

As a man again he walked across the balcony calling out for her. Evening was fast approaching. He thought he'd find her dozing in his bed. His chamber was empty though. Their late lunch was cleared, as well as the bottle of wine and glasses were gone. Anxious he moved through to her room. Finding her gone, Jareth felt his stomach tighten. He hadn't felt a wished away. Though, he didn't always feel the children she did. With a wave of his hand he called up the map they had assembled in her apartment, counting the red dots. Had there been a new summoning? One new dot glowed.

Fighting to clear his mind, he counted a second time. There were nine dots now. It was possible that the latest was from this morning, when Stephen Nightwalker had joined them. It was just as probable too that she had responded to a wished away without him.

No, he thought shaking his head, she would have no way of leaving the Underground. It would be impossible for her to know how to move through the planes.

Flicking his wrist he pulled a crystal from the air. "Show me Sarah." The crystal filled with a mist, but refused to clear. Slithers of red and hazes of blue flashed across the surface. It made no sense! Rapidly he made several more crystals and balancing them in the air, gave the command, "Find Sarah!" And sent them shooting off in various directions.

He pulled on the planes and folded the bed chamber into his study. Nightwalker was still deep in his enchanted sleep. Jareth, acid burning in his throat, leaned near his apprentice's ear, "I will remove one appendage for every hair missing on her head!" In his sleep Nightwalker winced and mumbled. He should take him back to the Dame Blanches now. Instead he took a deep breath. "Goblins to me!" he called out.

A handful of bright lights flashed in the study. Five goblins stood awaiting orders. "The Lady Sarah- has anyone seen her?"

A particularly hairy one raised its hand tentatively. "I saw her."

"Where?"

"In the hallway."

"When?"

"This afternoon."

Jareth pinched the bridge of his nose. "Weech," he said, using the goblin's name. "Think hard. Where and when did you see my lady and what- really think now- what was she doing?"

Weech scratched his head. After a moment of thoughtful silence he took a deep breath and said, "Well, sire, it seemed to me that she was wandering about in a fit of emotional distress, and had sort of lost her way in the hallway. Her face was wet as if she had been weeping. All she wanted was to go back to her room, doubtless for some privacy to deal with her angst. I obliged her by taking her hand and escorting her back to your majesty's chamber, wherein she inquired after some Dandelion Wine. I retrieved said bottle of refreshment. And then the lady asked to be left alone."

Jareth blinked, astonished at the goblin's clarity and vocabulary. "Thank you Weech," he said. "And this was earlier this afternoon?"

Weech dug a finger deep into his ear. "Yes sire." And he then flicked whatever he found off said finger.

The moment of admiration passed and Jareth shook his head in disgust. "She is missing," he informed the group. There were several gasps. "Form a search party for the interior, and then send out the guard to search the perimeter. Find her!"

As the group exited, calling out for their comrades, Jareth looked once more at his apprentice. Sarah had been so sure he meant them harm. Yet here he was completely incapacitated and Sarah missing. He was loath to admit it, but he, Jareth Choblyn King of the Goblins, officially felt out of his depth.

There was a good deal of clamoring as the search began. Doors were opened and shut with bangs and squeaky hinges. Shouts from one end of the castle to the next. If word got as far as the bog Jareth suspected he would find Sir Didymus charging his castle's front door. That was all he needed: a champion fox hellbent on finding his lady in distress with the aid of a canine steed.

Above the din he heard a shout, "A mist! A great mist!" He followed the commotion back to his chambers. There a small group of goblins had amassed, ogling something on the balcony. Ordering his subjects to stand aside, Jareth reached the balcony to indeed see a mist falling over the railing. It brought with it a damp chill. Everyone tensed. Jareth felt the amount of magic magnify as the goblins readied their defenses. More than that though he felt a power roll from the mist. Like his subjects he turned rigid, expecting the worst- an attack on their home. His fingers began curling and uncurling, gathering his own magic.

With barely any noticeable movement, the mist parted enough to allow a narrow passage. From this opening Sarah walked out. Jareth noted her eyes were glazed, she moved as one in a trance. The mist withdrew and with its absence Sarah lost her balance and fainted on the balcony. Jareth was at her side at once. She was hot to the touch and unconscious. Breathing though. Concerned goblins crowded near.

Jareth passed a hand over her forehead. She had been exposed to a good deal of magic- it radiated from her in the form of heat. "Fetch some cold compresses. You there- clear away!" He cradled her in his arms. "Move aside!" he ordered the goblins.

He laid her on his bed. He knew he needed to bring her body temperature down and begin assessing what exactly she had been exposed to. Without pausing to think of her modesty or how angry she would be with him, he began removing her dress. Several goblins appeared with damp wash clothes, these he placed on her forehead and chest. Still she was hot to the touch. Her hair line was wet with perspiration. Her breathing a little ragged. It was like she was sick from the amount of energy.

Splaying his fingers, he hovered his hands just over her body and began calling the magic out. Not knowing what exactly she had been exposed to could prove dangerous, even fatal to him, but her body could not cope. Ancient words passed his lips, ordering the magic to leave her and join with him.

With a loud gasp, Sarah bolted up on the bed. Several goblins fell back in surprise. Wide eyed she looked around. "Jareth!" she exclaimed.

Jareth held his hands suspended in disbelief. She had awakened through something other than his doing. The magic that had touched her had suddenly vanished. Or dissipated. Which he was not certain. He held her face. "Let me see your eyes," he told her. They were clear again. The bright green he loved.

"What happened?" she asked. "I was walking. There was a mist."

He touched her forehead. Swept her hair back. She felt cool again. "You were cocooned in strong magic. Yes, there was a mist. Where did you go?"

"Where?" she repeated. She touched his hands, her face going far away. "I think I was walking through time." She lowered her eyes in thought. "Jareth why am I wet? And covered in wash rags?"

Indeed her chemise was soaked due to the wet cloths he had ordered. He was saved from chastisement when a goblin proclaimed, "Lady hot!"

"What?" asked Sarah.

"All kinds of hot."

"Ouch to the touch," said another.

She looked to Jareth for understanding. "You were radiating extreme heat when you came out of the mist."

She began hugging herself. A slight shiver shook her. "Odd. I'm cold now."

"Given different circumstances," began Jareth, tossing the damp cloths to a subject. "I should very much enjoy seeing you so, but for now, here's a blanket." He pulled the duvet closer to her. "You said you were in time?"

She wrapped the material around her shoulders. She nodded. "I believe so. There were flashes of blue and red. It reminded me of what I saw when we shared our minds. Jareth, I think the Labyrinth was trying to tell me something."

Jareth ordered the room to clear and for someone to send up strong hot tea. Tucking the duvet closer about her, he found himself fussing over her hair and over all comfort. The panic he had felt had left behind in its wake a nervous energy. "Jareth, I'm alright," Sarah said reaching for his hand that had adjusted and readjusted some corner three times. He let her hold his hands. "I truly believe I was safe, with the Labyrinth. She was trying to tell me something."

"That crazy entity had me in panic mode."

Sarah eyed him. "Your transparency is adorable, you know," she said with a small smile.

He winced at his own display of vulnerability, yet couldn't help but return her smile. This woman always came with a huge helping of the unexpected. This morning she had even convinced him to proclaim his love for her, not to mention every other crazy, difficult, dangerous event that they had shared. "And just what do you think the Labyrinth wanted you to know?" he asked.

"I specifically asked her to explain what she had meant by 'something left in between.' I didn't know how she would answer or if she even would for that matter."

"And you just walk off into a mysterious mist without considering who or what was answering you? Just like the burned building!"

"I can't explain it. I… I knew it was her. She opened time for me and took me back some where. Well, that's where things took a change," she said when he asked her to explain. She retold the flashes of color, the child appearing, and how the same figure had collapsed when she had touched its shoulder. All of the teasing had gone from her voice. She had grown smaller before his eyes.

Jareth saw the sadness. "What a horrible thing to show you," he said. "And an unfair accusation. To even suggest that you could be responsible for the death of a child." He shook his head.

Sarah let go of his hands. "Have you ever lost one?" she asked after a lapse of silence.

He sat on the edge of the mattress, considering how to answer. "Our job can be tricky. Words must be spoken or at the very least thought. The desire to be gone must be present. Unfortunately the words aren't always used."

"That's not what I'm asking," she interjected. "Did you ever hear or feel or know the words had been used and were too late?"

Now he understood what she was asking. "Yes." When he looked at her, he saw her worrying her lip. Tears were building in her eyes. "Sarah, we are not gods. We are not omnipotent. We do our best to respond. To be there." She had begun to cry. "Surely, you do not think that all of this is because… Oh my love." He reached for her. She shied away. He tried again. This time she moved away, found her dress, and mumbled something about needing dry clothes. She climbed off the bed. After a moment he heard her connecting door close and the faint click of her lock.

It wouldn't take much to unlock said door or even make the entire barrier vanish. He considered it. He considered yelling at her, "Transparency must go both ways!" For all the good it would do. She was stubbornly locked tight; clamped shut. He even wondered about magically appearing in her room, coaxing her into bed with him as a viable option.

The servant appeared with the hot tea he had ordered. Glumly he stood in the middle of his own room, drinking a cup.

Jareth prepared to go to bed early. What else was there to do? Sarah was still locked in her room. His apprentice suffering from a series of bed-wetting nightmares. Until a wished away occurred or something new came to light, there was nothing to be done. Besides, he reasoned, he deserved a good night's sleep. He fancied he couldn't remember the last restful night he had, had. So to bed. He would wear actual pajamas, stretch out in the middle, and sleep.

His eyes adjusted to the darkness. Then he fluffed his pillow. The duvet was too warm. Just a sheet would suffice. No good. Two pillows, instead of one. The whole bed was one big bog of a mess. He sighed into the darkness.

When he heard the adjoining door open and saw a dim light spill out, he lay still and waited. Sarah slowly came into his room. She hesitated for a moment, leaning forward on her toes. "I'm awake," he said aloud. This seemed to satisfy her. Leaving the door ajar, she crossed the room, to the other side of the bed, and climbed up next to him. Without warning she leaned in and kissed his lips. Hand in her hair, he responded to each advance, knowing that this aggressive display was only to distract him. He pulled her down next to him. Leaning over her, he asked, "What are you doing Sarah mine?"

Oh why did he care? A willing, fully aroused Sarah was in his bed wearing nothing except a night gown. Their bonding was strong. But he did care. He waited for her to answer. Instead she tried to kiss him again.

Her green eyes narrowed when he moved his head away.

"This is a blatant distraction," he stated.

"One I thought you'd welcome," she replied.

"I should welcome it," he responded. "If it wasn't simply a way for you to assuage your conscious. Ah, so it is!" he exclaimed, darkly satisfied, when she abruptly pushed him away and tried to roll to her side. "The little lady accuses me of using means to an end and yet here she finds herself doing the very same!"

She denied it. "It's not like that."

Leaning near her ear he hissed, "I should tease you into a frenzy and then leave you!"

She made an exasperated sound

"How exactly is it then?" he asked in crisp tones.

She moved to her back once more. "Can't you just accept that I'm here and that I want this?" Her hands ran the length of his chest, felt his back. "I want to be with you."

He allowed himself to be pulled into another kiss. Her body was warm and soft against his. Jareth felt his body responding; the natural instinct tugging him down, closer to her. His mind shook it's self though and put him back on course. "What happened after the mist?" he asked against her mouth.

One of her legs intertwined with his. "Really, Jareth?"

He responded by initiating a deep kiss. "I become more amendable the more you talk."

He felt her head nod slowly. "The child, in the mist, I-," she paused, moving with him as he shifted his weight. On top of him, their faces almost touching, she sighed against his chest. "I think I'm responsible for what happened to him."

Gently he combed his fingers through her hair. "And what makes you think that?"

Another kiss. Their bodies pressed together. She sucked breath in, the struggle to keep talking more than apparent. "Say you love me. Say it again," she pleaded.

Jareth could not deal with any more of her dodging answers or abruptness. He simply didn't want to play this game. "Stop this nonsense and tell me what this is about." Sarah slid to her side. He felt her hand pass under the hem of his shirt, moving across the spot where he had been burned. Only this morning her hands had moved over his skin in trusting caresses. He caught her hand and moved it away. "I'll be with you, I'll make love to you, regardless of whatever terrible atrocity you are afraid you've committed."

Taking a deep breath, she said, "I didn't respond."

"Explain."

"I didn't do what I should have." Both of her hands rubbed the sides of her face. "It was all so new. Terrifying, really. I panicked and tried to fight it, to resist the pull. There was so much despair and anger and fear- it was like a demon had taken possession of my mind. My delay in helping caused harm to come to a child. I should have been there." Her voice began to tremble.

Jareth inched himself up against the pillows to better see her. Clearly he could see her fighting tears. The confusion she had to have felt with the surge of her power- it had to have been overwhelming. Jareth had been guided from a very young age in the art of retrieving and caring for a wished away. He had been taught how to control the strong emotions, use them as a beacon, to follow the astral trail that a wished away created. But not Sarah.

When he didn't say anything she continued, "I wanted to be with you, to feel whole before you knew the truth."

"Sarah, your mistake is one of many that both you and I have accumulated over these past five years. No, I don't think any less of you. You taught yourself how to respond, how to use your power and dedicated your life to helping the needy. I cannot be angry with such good intentions."

"But I left a child in between!"

"You don't know that."

She insisted. "It makes me responsible for everything!"

"No," he said firmly, sitting up. "What it does do is give us a possible explanation. A starting point. That is all. This, between us, stays the same." He reached for her, touching forehead to forehead with her. For a moment he enjoyed her nearness, her honesty. Her trust. "I gave you goblin fruit and sent you home without thinking about the repercussions. If you resisted a wished away out of ignorance than I am so much more to blame."


	20. Chapter 20

_Sarah_

 _20_

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

Sitting there on his bed, Sarah felt very drained. How many days had it been since all of this had started? Eight? Ten? And the years leading up to this moment- those alone, when considered, were a heavy amount of time. Her body teetered between desire and guilt. Moments ago she had been ready to give up her virginity, her entire body to him. This fae man, this king of goblins, who captivated her mind and body, who she cared about without fully understanding. Who had a claim on her through their souls. Now her brain though couldn't stop thinking about this child, and the child led her to thinking about her brother. Then the guilt trip started all over again.

They sat touching head to head. Her eyes flickered to his chest. This morning, only this morning, she had touched his skin, learned what it tasted like and what he smelled like. She watched his chest rise and fall. Putting a hand against him, she felt his breathing change.

She had said sorry because once again she was vacillating about their relationship. Over thinking about one mistake had led her here to his bed. It had been misleading of her. To an extent. She did want to be with him. But her motivation had been all wrong. Shouldn't she want to be with him because he cared about her and she about him? Because deep down she was falling in love with him?

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. Feel, he had told her, feel and stop thinking so much. She loved the way his kisses tasted like honey. The way his hands seemed to innately understand her body. He had past experience after all. He understood far more about their bodies than she did. Provided sex was the same for both of them. Sure he felt pleasure, but did it ever hurt? Despite what they had shared, was that bit of information rather lost on him? Friends in the past had even told her of times when, to put it bluntly, the two of them simply hadn't fit the first time. Mortifying.

Of course then there as her own unruly magic. In a moment of uncertainty would she shoot out some uncontrollable force? To loose so much control, to give up everything…

Sarah, stop it, she scolded herself. Go back to that moment, right before you came in here, and all you could think about was feeling him, feeling Jareth. The memory alone had been a heady experience.

Feel. She turned her head and felt his lips. At once his mouth tasted sweet and inviting. Jareth eagerly responded, pulling her down against him. The feel of the sheets, of the duvet were restricting- they pushed them away. When he wanted her night gown off, she helped. When she wanted his shirt removed, he pulled it over his head. Now it was just the feeling of their bodies, skin to skin. The feel of his finger tips, the palm of his hand. The feel of his legs. The way his hair felt, some times soft, some times coarse. There was the feeling of his breath, wafting over her face, exhaled against her stomach, or hissed sharply near her ear.

His kisses became rougher, his lips firmer. There was an added weight to his body. "Sarah," he murmured her name.

She gasped. The sensation was all at once frightening and welcoming. "Jareth?" she replied, her voice tight. When she heard her name again, she realized she had had her eyes closed. Opening them she saw him leaning away from her with hooded eyes. She looked questioningly at him.

"Do you understand what you're doing?" he asked.

One of her eyebrows rose quirked up. Based on what had happened in the morning, the bit of anatomy between them seemed the same and all that. "I think so," she replied.

He chuckled. His hips moved. "Fairly certain this is the same fae or human." Clearly he was amused by her reactions: the smile he flashed made his eyes twinkle in mischief. "What I meant was, do you understand what being with me means?"

Taken aback by the sudden change in mood, it took Sarah a moment to answer. And when she did, it was terse, "You know for someone who is always telling me to stop thinking so much, you picked a heck of a time to ask a question."

For a beat he simply looked at her. Then with a hum and a shrug he climbed off of her. She gaped and then sputtered in what she knew to be a very unattractive way. "Clearly you cannot think and make love at the same time," he explained.

"And your question is more pertinent?" She could not hide the exasperation in her tone.

With a calm that was dumbfounding, Jareth propped a pillow against the head board and leaned back. "Yes."

She looked at him, from the tip of his bony toes, to his mismatched eyes. She took a deep breath through her nose. "You quite clearly want this, as much as I do," she said poignantly. She gathered her thoughts. "You said, we would do this, be together, regardless of what I told you."

"I did. And that still holds true."

"But you want to know if I understand what it means? It means I trust you," she answered. She sat up, not even trying to cover herself.

"That," he held up a finger. "is a fact that was established this morning. You see Sarah, some where between your delicious body and delirious kisses, it occurred to me that I was yet again giving of myself without any reciprocation,"

"Recip…?"

He continued, "I have demonstrated how much you mean to me. I have given of myself, my safety, my very soul even. Even going so far as to tell you I love you." Here he paused.

Sarah swallowed. So that little exchange, or lack thereof, hadn't gone unnoticed. He had indeed told her he loved her. And she had not. She had used his help. She had turned to him for guidance. Had insisted he stay in her life. And here, here tonight, she wanted him to take her without assurance of how she felt. "Oh transparency…" she murmured.

"Is a cruel mistress," he finished for her. "So I ask you again, do you understand what being with me means?"

His control, which normally she would have admired, she decidedly did not like at the moment. Parts of her felt a chill that moments before had been wonderfully warm. "It means you're weirdly auditorily wired," she offered flatly.

The look her gave her made her stomach quiver. Then he grinned lopsided. "There's truth in that as well. Humor me, Sarah," his words echoed her own that she had used on him this morning. He sat up. "And use the right words."

No more misgivings, she decided. No more thinking. No, that wasn't quite right. She had to think the right way, about the now. To be in the now, one must think in the now. She was stark naked in front of him. She leaned forward on her hands, knowing that this display would be hard to resist for any man be he fae or a human. "It means that I belong to you," she said.

That seemed to satisfy him. He met her lips, pulled her to him, and rolled her over. Within moments they were back in the moment, breathing hard and bodies pressing together. He told her to breath deep. Locked in a kiss that held her head pinned to the mattress she felt the weight of his body, and in one forceful motion he joined with her. There was a burning pain. Breaking away from his lips, her head jerked to the side and she gasped loud. Then Jareth's voice, gentle and soft, "Breathe. Oh, my beautiful woman, breathe." His hair fell around her face, tickling her neck.

There was deep ache and a warmth. With each breath she felt a growing urgency. Pleasure that became more than movement, that needed to be vocalized over took her. Arms and legs entwined, they cried out together and then laid still.

It amazed her how intense the sensation was, to then how it dissipated into a lazy warmth that lingered with his closeness. She quite literally felt smooshed beneath him, his entire body lying against the length of her's. So close they were breathing each others air, their sweat mixing chest to chest. Yet it was comfortable. It was desirable. Her hands held his head to her cheek. If he moved, shifted at all, then the world was going to come crashing in, separating this oneness; plague it with worry. All she wanted was to stay like so.

Eventually she let him move. Lying side to side Sarah surprised herself by the amount of affection she needed from him. How close she wanted to stay to him. How much she feared the reality that laid waiting for them outside the room.

"Not the look a man wants to see after making love," Jareth said.

Sarah realized she had been lost deep in thought, her brow furrowed, worrying her lip. She tried to laugh it off. She even managed to smile for him. "Just thinking," she said to placate him.

Their hands were clasped. He played with her fingers. "Over thinking," he corrected her. "I know that look: Sarah Williams' mind is off worrying about some unknown, uncontrollable thing. I saw it some time earlier this evening." He brushed her hair from her forehead. "Such dark thoughts are not permitted in our bed."

Sarah sighed. "I can't help myself. I'm a practical worrier." Her own laugh at her self-description sounded hallow. "This…" She paused, her eyes looking up at the ceiling, glancing at the window, and finally resting back on his face. "This can't last."

She saw his lips press into a thin line and his eyes narrow. For a moment she thought he'd reprimand her for breaking this holy respite. Instead he kissed her hand.

"Eventually," she continued. "It will catch up to us. One of us is going to get caught."

Jareth closed his eyes.

She pressed, "One of us is going to get hurt."

When he opened his eyes again, he moved over her. "Listen to me, we have Nightwalker- a valuable asset that will lead to answers. We have the Labyrinth- she is cooperating in her own way. I will not, will not," he repeated with conviction. "give up so easily."

"I'm not giving up. I'm accepting the facts, the way things are."

"No, you've resigned yourself to one outcome." He kissed her, tender and soft. "The universe gave you back to me. I won't let you go again."

"Understand where my feelings come from," she began to say. The words wanted to stick. She would be confessing a very long held truth. One that had been buried in half-cocked fantasies about being heroes of children, dark knights, and romantic daydreams. "I worry because I care. About you."

She let him take her again. He was gentler, more persuasive; helping her to understand all of these new found pleasures. Sarah welcomed the chance to be distracted. If anything, regardless of how events played out, she had been with him wholly, without reserve. Surely that spoke of how much he meant to her.

The first light of morning made a series of shapes across the floor of the room. A tree branch waved its shadow. A bird took flight. Sarah watched these natural occurrences with a sort of reverence. They were reminders of the order of the universe, of how peaceful life could be; how even in the face of danger the sun still came up, solid objects still cast a shadow, and animals, life, strove on. She turned her head to look at Jareth still sleeping. His arm under a pillow, supporting his head. They too would find a way to continue. Or so he promised.

She let out a quiet sigh. This morning also reminded her of decisions that needed to be made; people that needed to be confronted; powers that needed to be understood.

Carefully she quite the bed so as not to wake him. A few moments alone to sort out her thoughts and plans was what she needed. She nearly stumbled when she tried to walk, finding her legs and neither regions to be acutely sore. She clamped a hand over her mouth and steadied herself against the mattress. This she had not anticipated. She glanced at the other side of the bed- the thought that he had done this to her actually made her smile. It was a good sort of discomfort. One that would feel even better after a warm soak.

While the water ran she examined a collection of bottles. What beauty regimen did the Goblin King adhere to? She sniffed a purple bottle and realized it was lavender oil. It smelled vaguely familiar. She had a basic understanding of certain oils for health benefits. Lavender was supposed to be a relaxant. A green bottle proved to be peppermint oil- this was good for relieving muscle tension. A dark one was pungent. It made her think of Koala Bears and Kangaroos. It's smell made her sinuses tingle. She also knew that certain oils could be used for spells. She reached again for the lavender and added a few drops to her water.

In the end her decision about what needed to be done took little thought. It simply was the best course of action. She needed to keep both of them safe. There simply wasn't time for her to come to a full understanding about how to use her powers. Convincing Jareth of her plan was going to prove interesting. She knew this. He was going to tell her no. He was going to force her to stay Underground side. The controlling, bony toed, jerk, she thought in a rush. Then she felt abashed. He was not a jerk.

Out of the water she quickly realized she had no clothes in this room. Making a mad dash, naked and cold, across the room to their connecting doors, didn't seem prudent. Then she spied his robe. Slipping it on felt secure and invigorating. She tied the cords and went back to the bedroom.

Jareth was awake, reclining on an elbow, speaking with a goblin. The goblin vanished in a flash of bright light. His eyes ran over her in such a way that made her bite the inside of her lip. "Good morning," he finally said. "Breakfast will be up shortly."

She nodded. "I need to go Above. Back to my apartment." She let the words rush out. If she could prove her case, then he couldn't have any valid reason to say no. "I know it is going to be dangerous- there could be more Ague-Root. But I thought about that: I was going to ask for Sir Didymus' help. There are things that would make me feel more secure, especially in the event that something or someone comes for one of us." She stopped to catch her breath.

Jareth hadn't moved. "You want to retrieve your cold iron?" he asked.

Though his voice was even, Sarah saw his jaw tighten. "Yes," she answered.

A slight shake of his head. "You can't touch it any more."

"What?"

"You can no longer handle cold iron."

Sarah looked down at her hands as if just seeing them for the first time. He had not refused her. But the reality of what he had said struck home hard. She belonged to him. She belonged to the Underground. She was turning Fae. She was loosing her humanity. In her heart she had known this, had accepted it, but to hear it vocalized some how made the truth bittersweet.

She heard movement from the direction of the bed. Jareth had found the pants of his pajamas. They were momentarily interrupted when breakfast arrived. She removed the plate covering, but didn't sit down to eat.

Jareth's hands rested against her arms and she felt his face nuzzle the side of her head. "Though I am sure that are mementos you would like to retrieve." He was offering a boon, a consolation.

She dipped her chin slightly. "Yes, there are." Photographs, books, odds and ends, drawings Toby had given her. Her brother's name caused her to hold in a breath, and then exhale slowly. She felt Jareth move away from her and sit down at the table.

"I think going Above is an excellent idea," he said. "Just not yet. Sarah, please sit down."

"Jareth I can't just do nothing. No, I want coffee this morning," she said as she sat and he offered her a choice of drink.

"I don't propose that you do nothing. I think though that we should try extracting information from Nightwalker before we venture Above again. Yesterday when I left you I spoke with some inhabitants that I thought might be of use to us."

Sarah ate as she listened to him describe what the Dames Blanches were capable of. She suppressed a shudder. She wondered how one would survey feeling such coldness deep inside their mind.

"Yesterday evening I had half a mind to give him over to them," he admitted. "But now, I wonder if you might be a better candidate for the job."

She stopped mid-sip of her coffee. "Me?"

"Nightwalker is convinced that you are some powerful, possibly dangerous fae. I'm betting on that fear to prevent him from lying to you or refusing your request."


	21. Chapter 21

_21_

 _Jareth_

From the door to the washroom, Jareth watched Sarah: she was fiddling with her hair, braiding it and then working her fingers through it to undo the strands. Nervous energy radiated from every movement. As he buttoned his shirt he considered again the proposition he had put to her, asking her to attempt to enter Nightwalker's subconscious. She would need to act. His apprentice needed to be intimidated by her, to fear her as an unknown threat. But she also needed to believe in her own abilities. The more she acted, the more she'd come to believe in herself. Just as he did.

"It's a part of you," he had explained regarding her powers. "Much like your lungs need air, so you move your chest to inhale and exhale, you can learn to draw in and expel your magic. It'll eventually become second nature. No, I don't think you'll need to do a drastic demonstration for Nightwalker. Besides I'm going to be right there with you."

"You want to piggyback your way into his mind?"

"I'll be in touch with your subconscious while you are connected with him."

She secured her braid. "Okay."

Had she known that attempting this multi-layered connection was a first for him, Sarah might not have been so willing. Jareth was not certain he would be undetected by Nightwalker. He would need to partially hide himself within Sarah's mind, behind a screen or partition. He drank the last of his coffee and decided it was time to begin.

Nightwalker looked like he had spent the better part of the last two days wrestling a Yellow Blurker. Which suited Jareth just fine. There had been a horrendous stench that had accompanied his apprentice earlier which Jareth had his goblins attend to prior to bringing Sarah in the room. Now the man lay sprawled back in the chair, clothes rumpled, hair stiff from night sweats, and face about as discolored as the aforementioned Blurker.

Jareth snapped his fingers. Nightwalker came to when his head drooped and jerked. His eyes squinted and then he let out a groan.

"Nightwalker," said Jareth gaining his attention.

"Your majesty," he croaked. His eyes focused on Sarah. Instead of greeting her he growled and sneered. "So what now?" he managed to ask. "More unfounded accusations? Another round of torture?"

"Your majesty, perhaps your apprentice would benefit from a glass of water," said Sarah.

She was playing a cordial card. Not the tactic he would have had chosen, but it suited her. Jareth made a glass of tepid water appear on a small table.

Nightwalker shrugged. "My hands are a little preoccupied," he noted.

Sarah nodded. "Jareth."

One of his apprentice's arms came free. He drank and sighed as if it was the best thing he had ever tasted.

"Stephen," said Sarah. "I think it is well understood that we do not trust you. We consider you a threat, not only to ourselves personally, but to the entire kingdom. Our way of life! But," she paused lowering her voice. "you insist that you are innocent. You claim to have no idea what we are accusing you of. I am offering you a chance to prove your innocence."

Nightwalker's eyes glanced between the two of them. "How?"

Sarah took a step forward. "You let me in your mind."

Nightwalker's close set eyes narrowed. "I will not let you wander about freely. I no more trust you than you do me. Sire," he appealed to Jareth. "My word has always been my bond. I entreat you again- believe me!"

Sarah spoke, "His majesty would rather continue torturing you. Entreating him will get you no where. Fast."

The glass of water jerked from Nightwalker's hand and then smashed on the floor. A quick demonstration of Jareth's displeasure.

"But," she continued. "You allow me in, to sort through your memories, we can come to an understanding and this can end. And if we find that you are not the threat, you might prove to be a useful alley."

Nightwalker lowered his eyes. Slowly the tension left his face and he sighed. The man was exhausted. When he looked up again Sarah noticed how dark the skin around his eyes was and how washed out the brown in his pupils were.

"If I feel at all threatened I will shut you out," he said with conviction.

Sarah nodded. She moved a chair near him and sitting down reached her hands out to touch the sides of his head.

Once their eyes closed Jareth rested two fingers against Sarah's left temple. The world became a blank slate. The trick was to stay in her mind and not leap frog over into Nightwalker's. He would have to keep his intentions close. Still he needed to let her know he was there, that their connection was successful. He sent the word peach out. The air rippled. He smiled.

Then a door appeared. A simple wood door with a speakeasy in the middle. First he tried the handle. Locked. A door kept people, things out. He was hidden behind the door. He cast his eyes over the structure. A speakeasy though worked as a large peephole. Jareth pinched the small metal latch, the cover swinging open.

Nightwalker was visible in another white space. Then Sarah's voice came. "Who do you report to regarding King Jareth?" she asked.

Sarah was an intuitive woman. This door with its speakeasy was perfect for this sort of voyeurism. He watched as it were through her eyes.

Lifting his hands, Nightwalker pulled a great hall with large columns into the space surrounding him. The pillars rose to an impossible height vanishing into what appeared to be a ceiling of stars. Figures walked among the supports, vague and shadowy.

"I already said that I report back to the High Court," said Nightwalker.

Jareth recognized the hall of the High King. He knew that further along would be a dais set in the roots of a giant tree. A throne would be there as well where Oberon, High King to the Fae, would hold court. Jareth lay a hand gently against the wood, a gesture to ease Sarah's wonder at the sight. She could not betray the fact that she had never witnessed the magnificence and splendor of the High Court's great hall.

Her eyes glanced up. "Yes, but who exactly do you talk with?" she asked. "Is the High King himself interested?"

The throne with its massive tree surrounding it suddenly darted forward in the space. For a moment the form of the High King was visible: the horns of his crown nearly indistinguishable from the shoots of the tree. Long robes in blues and greens cascaded down over the dais, spilling and overflowing like living water. Power radiated from even the memory.

Jareth swore he could feel a tremble pass through the wood of the door. He pressed his hand firmer in response. She had to stay calm.

But as quickly as the image appeared it faded back into the shadows. "Originally, yes," answered Nigtwalker. "Jareth had turned quiet, dismissive even towards the wishes of our High King. Our once proud, gregarious though mischievous Goblin King had turned reclusive. People talked."

Voices low and murmuring joined the display. A second Nightwalker began moving about the hall. As he neared a group the shadows took on a defined form as two women in loose flowing gowns. "He never visits me any more," one remarked.

The other leaned close. "He doesn't visit any one any more."

They dissolved once more into shadow as Nightwalker's double passed another group, this one consisting of both men and women. "Something about a runner,"

"Took it particularly bad,"

"But to ignore protocol?"

"Even for him that's extreme,"

"You don't suppose…No, it's foolish to even suggest it,"

"Dallying with young pretty mortals is not unheard of,"

"But to ignore a summons by the High King,"

And on went the speculations as more people came and went. The Goblin King had turned particularly brooding and reclusive after a certain runner.

The real Nightwalker walked into view. "That's what did it, you know. The ignoring of an official summons by the High King was one snub too many."

Sarah's voice, "And so you were sent in under the guise of an apprentice?"

"Yes and no. I must admit I had always admired the workings of Jareth's task: the response and care for wished away. Watching a human child acclimate into our world, allowing their identity to become one with their adoptive parents was fascinating. I was a young Fae without a master: ready to be put to use. I was happy to go where my High King sent me."

Nightwalker's double continued to appear throughout the great hall. Jareth watched as well as listened. Each Fae who manifested were acquaintances, even old lovers, but none who wielded any great power or inclination to subvert him. At least, none that he knew of. The trouble was that these memories were scattered over an undetermined time line.

"Stephen," said Sarah. "You said that originally the High King was interested in your reports. Were there others as well? Anyone else who wanted to know what King Jareth was up to?"

Nightwalker looked down and drew his brow in concentration. Around them the memories sped up as he sorted through them. Jareth watched. The images slowed as if concentrating in on one in particular, then sped up, and then rewound.

"Come to think of it," said Nightwalker. "An individual did ask frequently after my apprenticeship. Wanted to know if I was learning the art of retrieval. But also to know," he paused.

"What Stephen?"

"It's odd. He wanted to know about the times Jareth had failed to retrieve a wished away. I repeatedly told him that the instances were far and few between, but he was most insistent. Who was he?" he asked himself.

Nightwalker opened his eyes and surveyed his memories. He drew up several creatures, Fae with horns, animal prints that Sarah could hardly believe were real; more ethereal men and women.

"You mean to tell me, you don't remember?" asked Sarah.

"I know I talked with him, but I'll be bogged: I can't recall what he looks like."

"What about a name?" she pressed.

Nightwalker looked back at Sarah. Jareth saw his close set eyes narrow. "Tell me Lady Dandelion, what is it that you fear about me exactly? You and my lord have accused me of mishandling a wished away. Yet have offered no proof or pointed out any one instance that suggest such betrayal."

Sarah made no answer. She wasn't sure how much to reveal.

Nightwalker turned and took a step near her. "Who are you really?" he asked.

"I am Lady Sarah Dandelion," she replied.

In the background, the surrounding memories flickered. Instead of the great hall there was a flash of green hedge, a broken stair. Jareth felt his throat tighten. Sarah had let slip a small part of her subconscious. He hoped Nightwalker hadn't noticed.

Sarah's chin tilted up. She spoke, "And I have not give you permission to enter my mind, Stephen Nightwalker." Her confidence was back. "You are under scrutiny. Not me."

He shook his head. "My duty to King Jareth requires all of me- my mind, my body, my loyalty. I hold you in great suspicion, my lady. Aside from the nuisance of a few interrupted wishes, the king and I were on quite amicable terms. With your arrival though that all quickly changed." Another step forward. "You are not who you say you are."

Jareth wanted to shove the door open. The surface was warm with a softness that suggested a weakening of defenses. Would this mental barrier hold?

When Sarah spoke again it was a low rush, "I am the Lady Sarah. I have known the Labyrinth and been made privy to her secrets. I am a Fae woman blessed with power that rivals that of any royal. Claimed by Jareth Choblyn, King of the Goblins. That is who I am."

Suddenly the space around them went white. Not a trace of the great hall or any fleeting memories.

Sarah continued, "And as such an individual, when I perceive a threat I will act to protect and guard what I deem worthy."

Nightwalker went still.

"So," she then said. The wood turned cold under Jareth's palm. "if you will not tell me his name, I will find it myself."

The face of his apprentice blanched as quite suddenly his memories began circling around him, completely out of his control. They flashed, appeared and reappeared. Abruptly the images stilled: Nightwalker in one of his flashy frock coats stood conversing with an individual who refused to focus. The individual leaned over his shoulder from behind, speaking near his ear. The words "failures", "children", "forgotten" wafted through the air as if spoken by the wind.

Nightwalker's eyes darted between his memory self and Sarah. "How did you…?"

Sarah drew near the scene tightening it, concentrating. The figure refused to fully materialize.

"You riffled through my memories as one might sort papers." He sputtered. "But you did not harm me."

Jareth let out a bent up breath. He had witnessed Sarah's ability once already, but to see it done to another- he was in awe. Returning to the Underground had unleashed her full potential. Being near magic, the wild free magic of the Labyrinth, had sharpened her. Jareth found himself smiling. He had always known she was so much more than she had allowed herself to be. This level though, in one so new to their abilities, he had never witnessed.

A powerful sorceress indeed, he thought recalling the words he had used just before tasting her soul, she already is.

Sarah's eyes were still focused on the memory. Jareth studied the shadowy figure. It appeared to be that of a man. He wondered how many times this sort of exchange had taken place.

"How many times did you speak with him?" Sarah asked, sensing Jareth's question.

Nightwalker had distanced himself from her. His confidence had been shaken by her demonstration. Sarah offered him her hand palm up.

"I have no intention of harming you Stephen," she said to ease him. "I will do what is necessary. But I have little inclination towards violence. Unless," she added after a beat. "I am being threatened. Tell me, how often did this man talk with you?"

He was unsure. His memories of the actual conversations seemed as blurred as the figure was. This time Sarah asked for permission to sort through Nightwalker's mind herself. To find this shadow in other memories. And she was rewarded with his consent.

In the end there were five instances. Each one nearly identical to the first: a voice whispered in an ear, a figure without substance. With each visit Nightwalker became more compliant- all four of his interrupted wished away were divulged without hesitation.

From behind the barrier Jareth felt irritation and frustration rise. He actually left the door and paced. This figure was so close, but untouchable. When he returned to the opening he found one of the memories playing on repeat. The door was warm again. As Jareth peered through he heard a slight rattle of metal. The handle had shook. He listened, "There is another," whispered the voice. "A woman. Find her. Find her name."

The memory skipped from the conversation to the Bog where Nightwalker walked; from there it jumped to the Castle Beyond the Goblin City, specifically the throne room. Sitting on the throne was Jareth and next to him dressed in green was Sarah.

The entire door was rattling under the pressure. Fearing that this shadowy figure might have a mental connection as well, Jareth jerked the door open, rushing into the space. He heard Sarah's gasp of surprise. Saw Nightwalker's eyes widen in alarm. The next thing he knew the connection was severed. Nightwalker was sprawled on the floor, his chair flung halfway across the room, and Jareth held him pinned with his boot. The air snapped and crackled as he fought to control himself.

"You!" he bit out. "Who is he? What is he? Speak!"

From behind him came Sarah's voice. He glanced back. "He doesn't know," she said. She passed a shaky hand across her brow. "He doesn't know," she repeated. "Those memories were buried deep. He didn't even know they existed until I pulled them out."

With an effort she got up from her chair. She pushed him aside, forcing his foot away, and knelt next to Nightwalker. In his panic tears had escaped. His breathing was labored.

"You're like him," Nightwalker managed to say. "Just like Jareth. Aren't you? But how is this possible?"

"Sit up." She slipped a hand under his arm and encouraged him to sit up. "Stephen, there is much we need to discuss. But first let me say, thank you for allowing me in your mind. And that I am sorry I mistrusted you. You were being manipulated. Jareth," she turned towards him. "Help me. He needs food and drink, and all three of us need to talk."

 **Author's Notes: thank you for your patience. Life got very complicated the last few months. But this story has ending and we are working towards it. Thanks for reviewing!**


	22. Chapter 22

_Jareth_

The map with its red dots, the high school picture of Sarah, the feather, and burnt bottle of Myrrh- they were all gathered together in the study. Nightwalker walked from item to item, his close set eyes scrutinizing each one, his second cup of tea in hand and a sandwich in another.

Jareth tended to Sarah. Her body had reacted to the excessive use of magic with shakes and a cold sweat. He added extra sugar to the cup and helped her hold it. The use of her magic was different from being exposed to time. If she didn't learn how to properly control things she would burn herself out. But she had gone into Nightwalker's subconscious with such ease, had taken control without harming him. Even Jareth had been so caught up in the moment that he had not considered the physical depletion, the exhaustion that she could do to herself. Powerful, yet unruly- the Labyrinth had tried to warn him.

Sarah took the cup in both hands allowing him to stand. Absently he ran a hand through her hair. If anything were to happen to her… He let the thought trail.

Taking his own cup, Jareth turned his eyes to his apprentice. He was once more at the map, finger extended, counting the dots. "I recognize these spots," Nightwalker said. "Jareth, you and I were there." He pointed to an intersection with an apartment complex. "We watched a wished away become interrupted. There were police cars and a young woman."

"Yes," answered Jareth.

"We were really at a loss as to why," he went on.

Jareth caught Sarah's eye. He made a decision and began to talk, "Two years ago, Nightwalker you came to be my apprentice because I was being, well, difficult. Some of the rumors about me were actually quite true: there had been a runner, who had completely thrown me off my game." Here Jareth paused. He glanced down at his boots and sighed. "What most didn't know was that I had tried to change the runner."

"Change my lord?"

"Yes. She ate goblin fruit, given to her by my hand." He rested a hand on Sarah's shoulder. "I did not think through the repercussions of such an act." His fingers squeezed her and he was rewarded with a gentle touch of her own hand. "She won her sibling back and I returned her to the mortal plane."

Nightwalker lowered his hand from the map. Slowly he turned around. His brow drew together in the way that made his close set eyes narrow more giving him that ridiculous cross eyed appearance. He seemed to take in the picture that his king and lady were presenting to him.

Jareth fought the urge to turn away. Never before had he allowed his apprentice to openly scrutinize him. He fought the old habit of barking an order and being dismissive. Nightwalker was their only strong lead.

"She is that runner? But she also ate the fruit." Nightwalker was trying to put it all together. "Is she… By the blessed moon," he then murmured as the dots fell into place. "But why would she interrupt the wished away?"

"I didn't know that was what was happening," answered Sarah. "I mean, I knew I was responding to a need, to a child, but I had no idea that Jareth was feeling them as well."

Nightwalker moved near. "You have the ability to feel a wished away- without proper guidance, without proper training? My lord, this is unheard of!"

Jareth motioned to a chair and the piece of furniture drew its self near. He sat. "It is an exceptional circumstance-,"

"It is unheard of," Nightwalker repeated. "Jareth there has only been one of you. Prior to you coming into your powers and being given the responsibility, there was only one. There has only ever been one. You," he indicated Jareth. "were bestowed the powers to feel a wished away, to be able to retrieve one. You were trained and guided."

"As I said, exceptional circumstances," said Jareth.

"She really is the one in charge," murmured Sarah over her tea cup.

Jareth humphed.

"She? Is there someone else?" asked Nightwalker showing an overwhelmed sense of concern.

"The Labyrinth- she wanted this," explained Jareth.

Nightwalker pursed his lips. "The Labyrinth can talk?" he asked incredulously. "And at one point during my training did you plan on revealing this?"

Jareth shrugged. "I hadn't decided. If ever."

"I should think it pertinent," countered Nightwalker.

"The point here is, that Sarah and the Labyrinth are connected."

"Up until, what two days ago, I was in training to take over your position. Don't tell me what the point is!" snapped Nightwalker.

Sarah ventured a question, "Wait, you were training to take over his position, you mean, as king and wish granter?"

Nightwalker spoke not waiting for permission from his master, "He hadn't married. There was no heir. After so much time, an apprentice is expected. Knowing the Labyrinth could communicate would have been useful."

Jareth cleared his throat. It was an aspect of having an apprentice that he did not like to think on. No heir. He looked towards Sarah. Up until this point it had not been acknowledged. It was possible to change all that now. Perhaps that had been the driving force behind all of his protectiveness, his head long rush into bonding with her. He did love her. There wasn't a doubt in his mind about that emotion, but she was also his future.

She looked as if she wanted to ask a million things, but was choosing not to.

"We digress," he said turning back to look at his apprentice. "Sarah has the same ability. This shadowy figure, the one who spoke to you, he wants to know who she is. Actually he may already know who she is," he amended remembering the photograph.

Sarah nodded. "You said there had been a drawing bag in the last building. My photo and an owl feather were inside. If he knows my name, then," she paused, worrying her lip. "then he could call me to him."

"Yes, but he also knows my name," said Jareth tapping his chin. "He's going to an awful lot of trouble to get both of us in the same place at the same time."

Nightwalker moved around to the table and selected another sandwich. "So, if I'm understanding everything correctly: you both have been drawn in to at least two situations where there was a pull of a wished away, but there proved to be no child."

Jareth stood, approaching the map. "Yes. The first night we both stumbled into this building and it went up in flames. Sarah went back and found not only triangles, but a bottle of myrrh as well. The second pull that brought us together was this night where I detected the Ague-Root."

"And is that the building where the drawing bag was discovered?" asked Nightwalker. "And what of these other dots? The symbol they make is impressive- old rune magic."

"The other dots were places where we found other triangles. They made little sense until we discovered the pattern of the symbol. We can only surmise that the construction of said symbol is to build his own personal power," answered Jareth.

Something about vocalizing that statement again sent a tickle off in the back of his brain. Jareth went through everything again: triangles, myrrh, Ague-Root, power symbol, drawing bag. Each item had their own magical aspect. Each item was also tangible in that one either could physically hold them or hold the item that drew them. There was something there. How often did he need to use an actual object? Not very. The crystals he used were tangible and could hold a spell. Yet most of the time his body drew in the energy it needed and maybe with a few choice words he could accomplish whatever he desired. "Odd," he murmured.

"What is it?" asked Sarah.

"There's something about how all of this is being accomplished that's interesting. He seems to need ways to channel his own power. Outside his own body." He took a few steps away from the collection. "He never called us directly. Nightwalker?"

"My lord?" It was no longer spoken with reverence.

Jareth ignored it. "Have I ever given you an object so that you could use your power?"

"No."

"Sarah, aside from the peach, you've never needed a talisman or an enchanted object to use your powers, right?"

"No. But you use crystals," returned Sarah.

Jareth cocked his head and smirked. "But I don't have to. You don't have to. Nightwalker doesn't have to. We feel the magic- it is innate. It's in the air we breathe, it's in every living thing, and we can call upon our bodies to manipulate it. Yet this man," he paused, putting his hands to his hips, feeling confident that he was on the verge of a key revelation. "This man needs to."

They all fell into a contemplative silence.

"Help me understand something," started Sarah, setting aside her cup. "Jareth you told me that plants and tinctures could all be utilized in spell casting. That the triangles and the circle symbol were a part of rune magic. I was under the impression they were all powerful things."

"Oh they are," agreed Nightwalker. "In the right hands they can be just as effective as the natural energies around us."

"Can anyone use them?"

They looked questioningly at her.

"I mean a practitioner wouldn't necessarily have to be Fae, would they?"

Her question hung in the air, leaving an uncomfortable silence. Jareth and Nightwalker both knew that her statement was true: anyone could blend the right potion or derive a certain tincture. Even write the appropriate runes. But in context of their situation it was a unnerving to think of a mortal, someone in the Above, becoming so adept.

Their lack of response validated something for she nodded. "He's in between," she said quietly.

Jareth could hear his apprentice asking for clarification. Not understanding the full implication of those words.

"He's not a human, he's not a Fae," she went on growing agitated. "He's not dead, but he's not alive either. He's in between our very worlds, between existences. The Labyrinth said she was concerned something was left in between."

Jareth pinched the bridge of his nose recalling the words used that night. "Yes, yes, she said,'a tainted mortal was in between; magic was used in between; was there something left in between?' Even she wasn't entirely sure what had thrown off the balance."

"Now hold on," said Nightwalker. "The place you're speaking of only exists in theory. It's nearly like that place right before one falls asleep- not quite present, but present. But to exist there." He shook his head in disbelief. "One cannot even get there."

Sarah was not dissuaded. "I can wager a guess how."

Jareth noted the fear was gone from her expression. She now had one of intense wonder.

She went on, "We speak about magic as a natural thing- we draw it in from around us. We do not create it because it already exists. Right? When we feel a wished away, we are drawn to it because in that moment magic has been activated."

"Sarah," he began.

"The child," she continued as if she hadn't heard him. "in that decisive moment has called on the powers surrounding them; they speak the right words; they make that most desperate wish. At that moment, they are using magic to call us. They are seeking permission to be guided from one plane to the next. What if those powers are invoked yet there isn't a response? They would be left,"

"In between," finished Nightwalker. With a low whistle he leaned on the back of a chair.

Jareth hadn't turned to face her. Last night, just the night before he had argued her position on being responsible for this mess. Yet here she was doing it again. Oh yes, he knew where her train of thought was leading her. "In theory," he retorted.

"But it makes sense," she insisted. "That's why he needs so many other avenues to use magic. That's why he's nothing but a shadow in your memories Stephen."

"But my lady that would suggest then at some point a wish granter had never responded," said Nightwalker. "Had simply not done his job."

"Her job." Sarah's voice was low and firm.

Jareth refused to engage her in this train of thought. He made a noncommittal sound, retrieved a sandwich and appeared to fall into thought. After several minutes he excused his apprentice warning him that he was house bound; that there were enchantments in place that would prevent him from leaving. No chances that he could either go back to the High Court and come into contact with this shadow man again.

Eventually he wandered out onto the balcony. Sarah was just as brooding as he was. What really bothered him- when all of the emotions and promises were stripped aside- was that her explanation fit. It worked. Every fact, every detail suggested that this one child had been left in between. But it also blamed her. It added guilt to a woman who already struggled with a sensitive conscience.

Besides, if he hadn't given her the peach…Had he not been so caught up in the game… No. It served absolutely no purpose to argue about who was to blame. And he couldn't take the emotion out of it. Their souls knew each other. She was intertwined with his being. What mattered was a solution.

He heard the clatter of the evening guard. The goblins had no idea the sort of peril their king was in. They only had a vague idea that an apprentice present could mean big changes in the future of the kingdom. He wondered if their loyalty would shift with ease? How quickly would they have forgotten him when Nightwalker took the throne? Jareth rolled his eyes. King Stephen Nightwalker. Nightwalker. The man would not survive ruling the Castle Beyond the Goblin City. He supposed that was why he had never given much thought to imparting the finer details to his apprentice. Jareth really never had had intentions of stepping aside.

From behind him he felt Sarah's arms reach around his waist and press her body against his back. "You know what I'd like to do?" she asked.

He rested a hand against her arms. "What?"

"Take you back to my apartment, pin you down in my bed, and make you eggs in the morning," she said and he felt more than heard her laugh. "Something completely yet wonderfully normal."

"That sounds very inviting," he agreed. "I wouldn't mind seeing you in Above pajamas. No wait that's not the right word." He moved from her hold. Turning to face her, smiled, "I believe it is called lingerie."

"Like I would own anything so scandalous," she said in mock surprise.

"Something silky and black."

"You've given this some thought."

"Oh Sarah mine you have no idea the many ways I've pictured you."

She tugged on his arms. "Let's go," she said enthusiastically. "Come on!"

"Back to your apartment?"

"Yes! Let's go blow off some steam."

Her eyes were bright and they shined in the late afternoon light. Jareth felt her excitement. "We needn't go Above to blow off steam, as you put it."

"I know. But I want to take you there. Look," she went on after he did nothing but stare at her for a beat. "You had one of your little fantasies satisfied by us going to bed in your chambers. I have my own."

Jareth took air in sharply. Felt her lean into him even as he shifted his weight back against the railing. "I think I'm beginning to see the fun in this transparency business."

"Is that a yes?"

As if he could ever deny her. "But we have to be smart about it. I will go and check the perimeter and if all is well I will return for you." With a kiss, he left her.


	23. Chapter 23

_Sarah_

Sarah needed this. She needed to break away from the mystery and fantasy of the Underground; from the constant hum of magic; servants and old friends. To feel something familiar-the terrycloth of her own towels, the cotton of her own sheets. To smell her own detergent and shampoo. It seemed silly to want these things. But the desire was strong. It would clear her mind and ground her.

And mixed in with all of those little wants was Jareth. She wanted to see him in her apartment again, comfortable yet unfamiliar, where she would know where the food was and would have to turn on the coffee pot. She wanted to see his clothes hanging from the hook on the bathroom door, knowing that he was lying in her bed. Her smells mixing with his. Something was very alluring about.

The colors from traveling by magic faded and they landed in her living room. Apparently he had not only deemed it safe, but had seen to most of the cleaning up: their to-go boxes that had been left behind were gone. A wine glass though was left on a side table. Picking it up and washing it was actually an inviting thought. She found herself doing just that. From some where in the room she heard Jareth make an amused sound. She knew she had lured him here with intimate promises- promises she was going to make good on- but she needed to feel like Sarah Williams for just a moment.

"How normal do you need this to be?" she heard him ask from the other room.

"Oh you know," she began, ringing suds out of the wash sponge. "like we just got home from work and we're going to have an evening in. As if our biggest concerns were where to order dinner from and not whether or not we might die."

"Understood."

Her hands felt cool from the water. "Very, very normal," she murmured to herself. She really needed this.

They had stripped each other bare. In the Underground, in his world she had grown to trust him and understand him. Now, now it would be nice to just be with him. Sarah had come to understand that opportunities such as these were simply not going to be many. Regardless of what assurances he gave her or promises of the future might be offered. Especially since she had a plan. The conversation today with Nightwalker had validated her sense of responsibility. She couldn't put off acting much longer.

Coming around the corner back into the living room she stopped short. Jareth was reclining on her couch, legs stretched out across the carpet, wearing jeans and of all things a tshirt. He looked like… My boyfriend, she thought and smiled. No. My husband, her thoughts corrected. The smile faded as the truth in that statement sank in. Their souls knew each other. She belonged to him and to the Underground. She rallied herself. So? She thought. I am still Sarah.

"Too normal?" he asked when her silence stretched on several more beats.

She shook her head, allowing her eyes to move over him. How was this man, this king, here with her? How was it that in so short amount of time she had become so intertwined with him? She smiled again. "But I fear I'm a little too over dressed." Her hands went to lift the hem of her dress. Instead her fingers fumbled in the air. She was in black leggings and a loose blouse. She caught Jareth's eye. He shrugged. "No more magic," she ordered sternly, pointing a finger at him. Though she had to admit the feel of these familiar clothes felt wonderful. The form fitting pants made her feel powerful in a way that magic could not replicate.

"As my lady commands," he conceded spreading his hands. He jerked his chin up. "Come here."

She crossed the room and climbed into his lap to sit with her knees bent around him. She looked at him again. "You wouldn't really have given up your throne to Nightwalker, right?" she asked curious.

"I certainly didn't want to," he admitted. His hands moved over her hips and lower back. "All that has changed now. I have you."

"About that. You still haven't exactly asked me, you know."

He shrugged and quirked an eyebrow. "A technicality."

She sighed, too loud and long. "I don't know about that. It's rather important to us mortal girls."

A scoff escaped him. "What- you want me to go about proposing now? Here in this poky little apartment?"

Sarah leaned back. "My apartment is not poky," she objected with sincere insult.

"Drab white walls and stiff second hand furniture," he insisted despite her scowl. "Poky."

She moved closer to him, putting her arms around his neck. She mustered a gleam in her eye and the same threatening expression she had used on him when he had tried to lock her in this very room. "I am not giving up my apartment," she stated.

"Oh?"

"Nope." A definite shake of the head.

"A castle at the ready to offer you any comfort you desire and you want to hold onto this dreary little place?"

"You better believe it."

"Hardly fit for a queen."

"You are insulting my home."

"Yes, the pokiest little apartment I have ever been in."

Sarah was about to continue arguing with him until she noticed his lips twitching. He was goading her. She let out a harsh hum. "Goblin King," she said, lifting and leaning herself closer again. "This place is my domain."

"And?" he challenged.

"And," she paused. What was she doing? Flirting? Sarah supposed that was part of the truth of the banter. But she wanted this for other reasons too. She wanted him to beg for her. To give her the reigns and decide the how and the when. Being back among her own things was turning into a heady experience. "And I'm going to show you why we're keeping it."

She took her time, forcing him to go at her pace. It wasn't so much about him learning more about her body as it was imprinting him on her belongings. This was her home. He needed to be a part of her world as much as she had needed to understand his. So she kissed him passionately on the couch, pressing the shape of his body in to the cushions. Over laying memories of him wounded with him craving her. She gave her carpet his shirt, even stepping on it, feeling the soft fabric under her toes. The doorway to the bedroom was where they struggled with pants and leggings, growing urgent. No threats. Not afraid of cold iron or crystals.

It wasn't long before she knew what he looked like against her bed. His wild hair splayed across her sheets. His masculine form a sharp contrast to her feminine floral. His expression was one of desire and trust; his already altered eyes seemed to increase in depth. Sarah paused above him, the sight filling her with an intense, strong emotion. They had just spoken of queens and marriage proposals. Desires for a certain future while so much around them remained in limbo. There was no sense in denying things any longer. Leaning near she kissed him. "I love you," she whispered against his mouth. He made a sound deep in the back of his throat, then demanded she say it again. "I love you," she complied, willingly and eagerly. Everything was forgotten except the feel of his body.

This time she didn't lay against him reveling in the after glow feeling. This time she stretched her arms up into the air, her body still snugly fit against his. This time she smiled wide and satisfied at the sight of him dazed and breathless. Jareth opened his eyes and returned her grin.

Evidently they had begun dozing, spooned together. Sarah couldn't recall when they had slipped into sleep together. Jareth's breath tickled the top of her head and she felt his chest rise and fall. All she knew was that she felt the most relaxed she had in weeks. And safe.

She slid away from his warm embrace. Parts of her body and brain fought the distance, wanting nothing more to stay. Quietly she found her shirt and underwear and went out into the living room. Her messenger bag lay on the arm chair. She knew what its contents were. Had handled them hundreds of times. But she needed the things inside it. Her fingers tingled as she reached in. First she felt the round disc shape of her mirror. There shouldn't be any issue using that still. She hefted it and then set it aside. Next came her small pill box filled with salt. No strange sensations there. Fleetingly she thought something about how at least she'd still be able to use salt while cooking.

The last item was the one sheathed in velvet. Jareth had told her she would no longer be able to touch it. But she had to know for herself. Her fingers tingled again. She reasoned it could be just nerves, and rubbed the tips of her fingers together. When she touched the pouch it vibrated in a weird way. When she took it out of the bag an old metallic smell assaulted her nose. Cautious she untied the bindings. She was about ready to either make herself painfully dizzy and possibly mar her skin. Stubbornly she plunged forward. Cold iron was deadly to all forms of fae- Seelie or Unseelie and anything that might lurk in between. It would be an effective weapon. But only if she could handle it. Jareth had been so sure. And yet. Everything about her, about them, had been unpredictable. If she had just enough of her humanity left, if she was just different enough, then maybe it wouldn't bother her like it did Jareth.

The hilt hummed in her palm. The rest of the blade came out. Sarah tensed waiting for the wave of nausea and dizziness. Or at least the fear that had been apparent on Jareth's features. Her hand felt rather like it was on the verge of falling asleep- tingly and lethargic- but it didn't hurt. After a few flourishes she replaced it back in the messenger bag along with the pill tin and mirror. So as not arouse too much suspicion she also gathered several of Toby's drawings and a paperback book, and then placed the whole collection on one of her table chairs.

Then she went into the kitchen. Tucking hair behind her ear she said quietly, "Back to normal. Just a little bit longer." And proceeded to get out her small frying pan. When she retrieved the eggs from the refrigerator she laughed because there was an unopened bottle of Dandelion Wine chilling. His forethought and desire to spend time away with her made her think of all the ways they still had yet to know each other. He wanted to. She wanted to.

If only the universe would be kind, she thought and shut the refrigerator door.

She cracked two eggs over the warm pan.

"If keeping the apartment," came Jareth's voice. She glanced over her shoulder. "means you cooking half naked on a regular basis, then yes, by all means we will keep this place."

The smell of the eggs brought back the night they had been thrown together. Sarah felt her gut twist at the memory. "We'll have to reverse the roles some time," she quipped. "Hungry?"

"Yes."

After pointing out where her silverware was and what cabinet had cups, Jareth went about the task of setting her small table. The simple domestic task made Sarah wish all the more fervently that the universe would be kind. That and he looked dang good shirtless in her apartment.

They ate in comfortable silence. Sarah heard Jareth bump a chair.

"So," he began. "You collected a few items I see?"

"Yes."

He nodded his head as if considering her selections. "Tell me Sarah is there a That Is the Way Things Are Done rule book of some sort?"

That was an odd question. She looked questioningly at him.

"Because," he paused and gave the same chair a more forceful push with his foot. "You seem to have taken a page from said book. Once again."

"It's sheathed and in the bag- you can sense it?"

"Metal and eggs make for a bad combination. I could smell it the moment I approached the table. Sarah," his voice had taken on a chastisement tone.

"I need it Jareth."

"No."

She scoffed. "Are you seriously trying to tell me what to do?"

"I'm trying to keep you safe. Doing things behind my back is not helpful."

"Oh right: that transparency agreement." She paused and put her finger to her chin in mock concentration. "The same agreement that you have a hard time adhering to."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That you're still trying to control me. It's perfectly acceptable for you to make decisions without consulting me or being forthright. Like that little mind trick yesterday." She tapped the side of her head. "First time doing it that way, eh?"

That revelation gave him pause. "You knew…?"

"There was a reason I chose a thick, huge wooden door. I could sense your thoughts just as well as I could see Nightwalker's. I had to block you. At least a little bit. And," she paused eyeing him carefully. "I know that I'm more powerful than you."

"And you think that I'm controlling you because, why, I'm afraid of you?"

She held his eyes. "No," she said without hesitation. "But because neither of us know what exactly I'm capable of, I think that unknown bit might scare you a little. You want to keep me safe, I get that," she went on. "But I'm not some incompetent child, Jareth."

"I never thought that about you," he responded with firmness. "I'm a king, Sarah. Making decisions, choosing the course of action; being relied upon for guidance- it's expected of me."

"My job is no different," she admitted. "We both have been going at life solo for so long, maybe we've forgotten what it's like to share."

Jareth closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Opening them again he looked at his plate and nudged his fork. "I'm sorry," he said.

That had been hard for him to say. Sarah knew this. She nodded. "Me too. Now back to the cold iron,"

"Which you can't even touch."

"Actually I can," she explained reaching for the bag. She could hear him objecting, but she refused to listen. To prove her resistance she took it and held it up. Jareth literally startled back from the table, scooting his chair back in the process. "See. It's like a weird tingly feeling, but it doesn't hurt."

One eyebrow rose up. She could tell he was curious, but the cold iron made him nervous. She understood that it could hurt him- burn his skin, be disorientating to his senses. "Why do you want it?" he asked.

"Semblance of control," she answered with a short laugh. Then more sober, "I need a weapon, something that I know how to use. My powers are too unpredictable still."

"And you need to defend yourself because you think this shadow man is going to try again? There has been an odd lapse in wishes."

She nodded. "I'm afraid that he might actually start hurting a child to get us where he wants us. I won't let that happen."

"Whoever he is, Sarah, he wants us dead. I don't want you responding to him, walking right into danger like that. Not alone. Not if there's anything that I can do. Please put that thing away," he said nodding at the blade. Once it was sheathed and back inside her messenger bag, he reached for her hand. "Tell me what you're thinking about doing."

Sarah felt that same strong emotion in her chest again. It brought with it a sense of happiness this time. "We need to ask the Labyrinth for help again."

 _Author's Notes: did our big bad king just apologize? Yes and surely we all love him more for it. Thanks for staying with me darlings! Reviews and or cash are always welcome._


	24. Chapter 24

_Sarah_

She had insisted on bringing some of her own clothes. To her jeans and lose tops were far more effective and practical than dresses and bodices. She felt she could effectively fight or run. Though she held onto the boots he had presented her with. Standing in her bed chamber back inside the castle Sarah paused at a mirror. She didn't look like a princess any more, but she also didn't look like the pseudo psychic either. There was a fierceness to her that hadn't been there before. A confidence. Was it her powers that were changing her? Or the love of a good man? Either way she liked the way she looked. She pulled her messenger bag over her shoulder.

Jareth wore a leather vest that reminded her of the armor he owned. His cycle pendent, the symbol of his house, shined as he walked. The complimentary deep maroon of his shirt added to the dramatic flair. He looked like a fae king.

Sarah worked a hair tie around the end of her braid. Part of her had wondered if they made an odd looking pair- fae and human going to… Do what exactly? Battle? They were going to challenge and to stop whatever was threatening them. When he came up to her, offering his hand, she decided that she liked the way they looked together.

Hand in hand Jareth folded the chamber away and they walked outside. It was early evening. The fine dirt made small clouds of dust as they walked. The little pond at the base of the hill glimmered in the fading light. Before them the massive wood doors waited. Bits of wild roses still worked their way over the entrance. She had insisted they come here to talk to the Labyrinth. This was beginning. A proper place to start.

The two of them exchanged glances. Sarah nodded. Turning towards the doors, she said, "Labyrinth I need to speak with you."

She was expecting the mist to come out again. In her mind she had seen the doors slowly opening, the moist tendrils spilling out, and then perhaps a voice. Twice now the Labyrinth had made herself available to them, surely a third time was not asking too much. Nothing happened.

Sarah worried her lip. "Please," she added hopefully.

Still nothing. She heard Jareth's feet shift in the dirt. Heard a bird cawing in the distance. There was an even a steady buzz from what appeared to be fairy wings near some of the flowers. Inside her chest Sarah felt an aggravation rising. They were so close to answers! She had prepared, dressed accordingly, and had spoken directly- it should be working! She was beginning to share Jareth's feelings towards this temperamental entity.

She let go of his hand and moved close to the door. Don't keep me out, she thought. She breathed deep, trying to force her emotions down. Putting a hand against the wood she leaned forward touching her forehead to the surface. "Please," she said again.

Another voice answered her, "She's in a bit of mood today."

Surprised Sarah's head jerked up. Coming along the path was Hoggle. He seemed to hesitate coming too close.

"Higgle this doesn't concern you," said Jareth dismissively.

Sarah didn't know whether to ignore the dwarf or glare threateningly at him. She was only certain of the pang she felt in her chest and the frustration that was bubbling. She wanted to stomp her foot, and then go stamping about cursing all the fae. Then she'd kick the door- it would be wonderfully therapeutic. But also pointless. She glanced back at Jareth. He seemed to be waiting for her to do something. Turning to look again at Hoggle, she asked, "Hoggle, what are you doing here? And what do you mean, she's in a mood today?"

"I's her gardener," he replied fingering some of the roses. "I understands her in many ways. She's different this evening." He paused. "She led me here."

Jareth scoffed. "You mean she talks to you? Unlikely."

"In her own way," replied the dwarf. He held the king's gaze. "You haven't known her as long as I have. I's was here long before you. And," he stood up straighter and held his arms stiff at his sides. "I's have something to say to Sarah that don't concern you."

Sarah saw the effort Hoggle was exerting. He was trying to be brave. To stand up to the king. At that moment she felt all of her love for him return. Cautious she allowed the emotion to work through her. Twice now in their friendship Hoggle had tampered with things he didn't comprehend- he had given her the peach, but also had taken what the peach had showed her. She might love him, but did she trust him? She held up a hand to stop Jareth from retorting and potentially starting a fight. "Well, then say it," she said flatly.

Hoggle looked down shuffling his feet, stirring up the dust. "The Labyrinth- she knows what I done. She felt your memories sink to the bottom of the bog. She always made certain tasks harder on account of it. It's probably whys I'm here now." He sighed deeply, all of his bravado shrinking. "I's sorry Sarah," he exclaimed his voice rising an octave in emotion. "I had no right!" Tears began to slide through his deep wrinkles. "You would come to me, tells me all about the children and trust me for advice, and alls the while I-," his voice broke. He blubbered for a moment. "I's love you Sarah. You're my friend. I hopes you still love me."

"Hoggle." She didn't know if it sounded like an apology or if it even sounded tender. To her own ears it sounded long suffering. She went to him and squeezed his shoulder.

"About time," said yet another voice.

This time everyone looked to see a woman approaching. Her tummy was swollen with child, her brown dress pulled tight; the hem raised exposing bare feet. Her dark hair swirled in the breeze.

"Labyrinth," Jareth greeted with a bow.

Hoggle sighed and smiled. Then exclaimed, "You's pregnant?"

Even Sarah had to admit a degree of surprise at the appearance of the entity. She watched as the Labyrinth approached. Her appearance- the dark hair, the eyes, and the obvious pregnancy- all rather unnerved her. Odd that the Labyrinth should want to resemble her. Her eyes lingered too long on the entity's stomach. "Don't worry, it's not his," she said with a smirk throwing a glance at Jareth. "I'm growing a new section of land. This seemed fitting in human form. Though I must say, there are some odd aspects." She paused and then addressed Sarah, "Ever have any cravings?"

Sarah blushed a bit. "I've never been pregnant," she replied. Though I've been doing plenty of the activity that could lead do that, she thought uneasily. She added out loud, "My mom said she craved jelly beans when she was pregnant."

The Labyrinth waved her hands and shrugged as if it was inconsequential. She reached out to touch Sarah on the shoulder, yet her hand hovered mid-motion. Her fingers curled into a fist and she retreated her hand. To Sarah her expression was unreadable. "Well," the entity began. "things will be easier now that you three have cleared the air a bit. What do you need?"

"Okay," said Sarah, taking a deep breath. "I need your help." She took a step towards Jareth taking his hand in hers. "We need you to open time for us." The entity remained silent. Sarah explained, "You told us that something was left in between. You showed me a weird, haunting vision of a child. I need to get to that child."

"What are your thoughts on this Jareth?" the entity asked the king.

"I agree with her. All of the facts point to the conclusion that there is someone in between. I should think finding this person and stopping them the best course of action. I can't simply reorder time," he then explained when the entity asked after his own powers. "We're not trying to go back to one particular moment. We need to be in time."

Another lapse of silence. Sarah thought the entity was taking far too long to consider things. She itched to get going. To stop this mad man before an actual child was hurt. Before one of those she loved got hurt. After all it was her who put them on this path. Surely she saw the wisdom in her own advice.

The Labyrinth rubbed her stomach. "I can get you close." She turned towards the doors. With a nod they began to open. "Inside time, outside time, in between time- which path do we need?"

Sarah felt a chill at her words. The mist came slowly, searching the ground, probing the air as it filled the entrance.

The Labyrinth spoke on, "A moment or a life time? Time has them all." She moved towards the doors. "Tell the dwarf what's in your bag Sarah and then come along."

Sarah looked down at Hoggle. Inside her bag was the mirror, the salt, and the knife. For a moment she considered telling him about all three things. But that would completely show her hand. In light of everything she wasn't sure even telling Hoggle about her cold iron was a wise idea. "I have my mirror," she said. "And some salt." She knelt down. Hugging her long time friend she added, "And yes, I still love you."

The mists were cooler than she remembered. Her arms broke out in goose bumps, each fine hair rising with each step. Next to her Jareth walked. She could sense his magic gathered at his center ready to act if needed. Ahead of them the entity led. There was also a sense of magic radiating from her, yet it wasn't the same prickly energy feeling. Sarah focused harder on the figure in front. During the early days of trying to understand her gift Sarah had sought advice from multiple difference sources including spiritualists who spoke of chi and auras. As she narrowed her eyes Sarah saw a color surrounding the entire body of the entity. She blinked. No a lack of color. There was a thin membrane of nothing surrounding her. Sarah tried to remember what that meant. Was it because she was undefined? Or simply because she chose to be open to all?

Jareth squeezed her hand pulling her from her thoughts. "Is this what it was like for you? The day you went through the mists?" he asked.

Sarah looked around. So far she hadn't noticed any traces of blue or red. "Not quite," she answered. She glanced behind her. It was like looking through a tunnel. At the far end was a circular opening through which Hoggle peered. In front of her the mists parted around the entity. Then she caught sight of a streak, flashing in the mists: blue. The Labyrinth had parted the veil.

Eventually the mist began to clear. It moved itself away to show more ground. Sarah felt her gut sink: on the ground lay a crumbled sweat shirt and a pile of ash. Small foot prints wandered aimlessly in the clearing. The entity stood to the side. Around them the walls of mist swirled. The flashes of blue were joined by streaks of red. To Sarah everything seemed incredibly oppressive.

Jareth went and knelt down by the pile to examine it closer. "There's latent magic here for certain," he observed.

"Of course," said the entity. "A child said the right words."

As Jareth cautiously lifted the sweat shirt Sarah backed away. Her emotions were bubbling, ripping, and bouncing all over her insides. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to run. But she knew she could do none of these things. Taking several deep breaths she fought to find her center. The entity had brought them close. They were at the beginning.

Sarah looked at the mists realizing for the first time how like walls they were. Boundaries. Her hand rested on her messenger bag. They were at an exact moment in time. This was the moment a child had activated the spell, pulled on magic, and had been ignored. They were not in between time. She studied the foot prints. When she had first seen them they had been walking away from the event. This time her first thought had been that they were wandering. Sarah traced the prints and found that they disappeared through the wall of mist.

"You know what you must do," said the entity suddenly at her shoulder.

Sarah felt her eyes widen.

"You are very powerful daughter of Eve and daughter of mine," she continued sounding sweet and understanding.

Sarah glanced down at the swollen stomach next to her. "I don't want to hurt you," she said.

The entity turned her towards her. Sarah saw something close to discomfort flit across her countenance. It dawned on her that the Labyrinth also knew what was in her bag. The close proximity of the cold iron was uncomfortable. What she wanted her to do… her thoughts trailed. The Labyrinth smiled and nodded as if to say it was all going to be okay. She moved to stand between her and Jareth blocking her from his sight.

Sarah studied the wall of mist. It was a boundary. She needed to move through the boundary. She needed to be outside time. She needed to be in between all things. With a deep breath, filling herself with resolve, Sarah dove her hand in to her messenger bag, and felt for the velvet pouch. Her whole arm tingled and vibrated. If she glanced back now, she'd waver, she'd hesitate. When the blade touched the mist Sarah was surprised at the lack of resistance, her blade slid down as if cutting air. Though the sound it made would forever haunt her. There was a loud ripping, as the boundary tore. It was if a million unseen molecules were crying out, the whole of existence being rent in pain. Behind the initial, jarring sound she heard a woman's scream. A man shouted in alarm. Light and darkness some how fell simultaneously as she gripped the opening and threw herself through it. The last thing she heard was Jareth shouting, "No!"

 _Jareth_

The sound of the boundary being torn and the Labyrinth screaming- Jareth was uncertain which one he had heard first. His blood froze. His heart stopped. Something terrible, unprecedented had just happened, and he felt the ripple pass over and through him to ride roughshod over the entire Underground. Then he saw her: Sarah had opened the mist and was throwing herself into the hole. "No!" he had shouted.

But then everything had gotten worse. The mist shivered and the ground shook. The Labyrinth, still resembling a pregnant woman, had collapsed to the ground crying out. Jareth's first thought was that the shock had brought on her labor. He went to her and cradled her head. With several deep breaths he steadied his nerves and prepared to pull them out of the mists by folding the planes. As abruptly as it began, it ended. The mists cleared and he found himself kneeling in the debris and the damp just beyond the front doors of the Labyrinth. Eye fungi gazed back him in equal surprise. Jareth's brain was reeling trying to reconcile being within the walls of the Labyrinth while holding the entity in his arms.

Oh, Sarah, what have you done, he thought in a mix of despair and anger.

The entity groaned. He looked down. Her skin shimmered. Her hair momentarily became vines. Her finger nails extended into claws. In bewilderment he saw her stomach deflate and swell in quick succession.

He heard Hoggle's exclamation. "What happened?" demanded the dwarf coming to him.

Jareth roughly smoothed the entity's hair away from her face. "Don't you dare leave me," he growled at her. His brain still told him this was a literal woman with a literal child. His logical side tried to regain control of his emotions. This was an entity, a creature of magic, she just needed the proper care. "You know what happened. Don't you dare disappear on me!"

The entity's eyes fluttered open while her body arched.

"You's was gone for maybe five minutes," said Hoggle. "What happened? She's acting like she's in extreme pain!"

Jareth wasn't certain what had happened. "Sarah did something to the mists and the Labyrinth," he paused and glanced over the woman writhing in his arms. Magic needs magic. If she disappeared it would be to go deep within herself to heal. The dwarf leaning near would understand this. "Hoggle," he said, the dwarf's name no longer a jeer. "We need to take her deep in to the maze."

"The bog," offered Hoggle.

For a brief moment Jareth's face pinched at the memory of the smell, but he knew that the Bog of Eternal Stench was one of the deepest, oldest sections of the maze. He thought about the castle at the literal center, but the building its self was not a part of her. "The old fox, Didymus, he still lives with you? Good. Come!"

Gently he lifted the entity, her human form growing limp. "I am your king," he told her as he got to his feet. "I protect what is mine." He folded the world around the three of them. It wasn't a smooth transition. Something in the air hitched. There was a resistance that had never been there before. As soon as the path to the bog materialized he commanded Hoggle to run ahead. "Prepare some lavender!" he added as the dwarf darted forward. "Stay with me," he murmured to her.

Sir Didymus lived in the remnants of a watch tower with a hovel attached to the side. It resided near the widest part of the bog where a very primitive bridge had once transverse the smelly, putrid waters. An incident involving Sarah had prompted the fox to consider a better crossing and with the help of Hoggle and a rock caller, one Ludo, nearly had the bridge complete. Didymus had been directing the placing of several new boulders when Hoggle arrived. "My brother!" he exclaimed surprised. "There was a strange quake of the earth just moments ago."

"I's know," replied Hoggle gulping air. "His majesty needs us!"

The little knight stood up straighter. "I am ready to serve." Didymus' good eye caught sight of the king approaching. Saw the woman he carried. His mustache drooped. "Is that our lady?"

Near by Ludo let out a low howl.

"No," said Hoggle. "We needs a place to put her and somes lavender to help calm her. Come on Diddy! I's will explain later, but for now, up to the tower! This way!" he called and waved an arm for the king to see. The two friends were inside their home, clearing away a bed.

Jareth, breathing through clenched teeth, was inside the hovel before things were ready. The old fox was throwing pillows onto a small couch, while Hoggle refilled a kettle near the hearth. The entity had ceased moving. He wasn't even certain that she drew breath, or if she even needed to. Parts of her had altered- there were still leaves in her hair and one of her shoulders shimmered as if smeared in pixie dust.

"By the Fates!" exclaimed Didymus finally seeing her up close. "What manner of woman is this?"

Jareth laid her on the couch, rearranging her so that her upper body was elevated. He could smell the lavender oil that Hoggle was preparing. It barely hid the pungent smell of the bog, but it gave him something to focus on. He looked from the fox, to the dwarf. In the past five years he had never called on them for help and rarely did he even check on their well being. Teasing Hoggle had been a habit for time out of mind. Didymus' eccentric code of chivalry had always amused him. As king he was aware of their long time residency and even a few unique talents- Hoggle's affinity for the earth and Didymus' sense of smell- but socially they were all strangers.

But Sarah knew them. And the Labyrinth- she knew them. Both women had shown they trusted these two male creatures.

Hoggle handed him a warm wash clothe. He bathed the entity's face. "She's the Labyrinth," he finally explained.

"And Sarah?" asked the dwarf, his voice quiet.

"Our lady?" questioned Didymus.

Jareth shook his head. "I don't know." He stared down the face of the entity. Jareth felt his chest tighten. How much could a man take? How much strain could a body handle? Before breaking. Before loosing control. Jareth balled his free hand. Just when she had said she loved him; just when they had formed a plan together. Troublesome mortal girl, with her beautiful green eyes and bewitching smile. Stupid sense of responsibility. The bog take it all! He stopped his mental rant when he felt the wash cloth being pulled from his hand. Didymus had taken it from him.

"Brother," said the fox addressing Hoggle. "I think our king could use a cup of tea. The special tea," he added as Hoggle obliged.

Jareth looked at Didymus. "You know of Sarah's special talent when it comes to children?"

"Yes."

"And of recent events- the fire, her being brought here?"

"I understand a little, sire. My lady has not divulged all."

Jareth nodded. "We are being targeted Didymus. Someone means Sarah and I great harm."

He began telling the old knight the entire story. The words falling from his lips in a tired, unhurried way. He should have been wracked with panic, but all he wanted was tell someone their whole story. He knew that Hoggle listened as well. He told them about the night she wished her brother away. He told them about the fire, the myrrh and the triangles. He told them about her stubbornness, how sweet her soul was, what the entity had shown them, and above all he told them how much he loved Sarah. And how now, when answers had been so close, she had acted alone and was only the Moon knew where.

When Hoggle pressed a cup into his hand, he welcomed the warmth of the tea. Sipping it he at once understood what made it special: it was laced with brandy. The burning of the alcohol loosened the muscles in his chest.

Hoggle loudly sipped his own cup. "So she really needs to wake up," he observed.

Didymus asked, "Hast thou tried searching for her thyself?"

"If she has gone to this place, this in between state, my magic cannot penetrate there. The Labyrinth- she understands much of this. But she speaks like she lives."

Hoggle gasped. "I knows it!" he exclaimed with a snap of his fingers. He disappeared into a back room. "Sarah, she told me what was in her bag! The mirrors Didymus!" he called.

"Excellent idea brother!" agreed the knight.

Jareth wondered aloud how they would think their simple magic would work.

"These mirrors are tuned to us specifically," explained Hoggle coming back out. "Sarah's mirror, will knows where she is." Balanced on his palm Hoggle touched the oval mirrored surface. At once it began to hum.

"Are-st thou fingers their cleanest?" asked Didymus as the hum repeated.

"That makes no difference," he grumbled.

The three male figures leaned closer expectantly.

"She's undefined," said entity from her place on the couch. "She's no where specific, so no one knows where she is."

Coming near Jareth observed that much of her human form was restored. Her stomach though now lay flat. He encouraged her to speak more.

"She is in between. No where specific. I took you close."

"Yes. You opened time for us."

"A moment. No more. Sarah, she had to go beyond time. She cut me!" Her eyes closed and she hissed. "The blade burned! But she had to. She had to go beyond. Your magic. My passage. Her strength." Exhausted the entity went still once more.


	25. Chapter 25

**_Sarah_**

The feeling of weightlessness was both relaxing and unnatural. There was nothing to hold onto, no where to put one's feet. Un-anchored she was adrift in a sea of black. An unknown source of light occasionally swept over the deepness and it glimmered like obsidian. She was uncertain if this was the ground or the sky. She wanted to orientate herself, to stand upright. With the thought she suddenly felt righted: her feet firmly against a surface. But even this felt unstable. Cautious she took a step. The surface glimmered again. Not quite a ripple.

She should have felt afraid. Admittedly her limbs felt heavy as if moving might cause unwanted attention or a series of reactions that could mean harm. Harm? Was there someone here that would harm her? Was there something to fear?

Part of her reasoned that she should have expected to be confronted with the heavens, or rather the whole of existence in stars and galaxies. Again with the thought things changed and immediately she was suspended over a void flexing in greens, reds, and blues, scattered with spots of dim light. Stars! Her mind reeled. The universe was literally at her feet.

She closed her eyes and desperately pushed the thought away. It was too grand, too vast. When she looked again she was back in the blackness.

It was like being in a massive subconscious. A place where everything existed, but not all at once. She tested this theory as she thought about walking on a hard surface. Under her feet the liquid solidified to more of gelatin. So here she existed, but was she alive? Who was she anyways? She looked at herself. She wore a simple blouse and a pair of well fitted jeans. A messenger bag was across her chest. These were her clothes. She understood that she was not naked. One of her hands was empty. The other held a knife. What had she done?

She took several more steps. She wondered how far she could walk or if she would ever stop. There was no need to hurry. The blackness soon became boring though. It was too dense. It showed her nothing. She thought about a warm light. Before her a small speck appeared. It grew, rounding its self out, until a ball just too big for her hand, hovered. She guided it up to hang just to the side of her head. Yes that was better. Now there was more than just black: there was grey, yellow, and white. She smiled and continued walking.

Ahead of her a figure appeared. The darkness seemed to like him- it clung to him in varying shades. Him. He. Man. She had to think through his gender. Yes he was a man.

"Impressive," he said one long arm indicating her light. "Did you make it yourself?"

"Yes," she answered. It was rather nice to have someone to talk to. "You want me to show you how to make one?"

His head slowly shook side to side. "Perhaps some other time. It's about time, you know," he then told her.

"I know."

"Time to come along." Together they walked further into the blackness.

 _ **Jareth**_

Outside Ludo had bellowed enough to move several particularly large rocks. Didymus had stepped outside to make sure he wasn't altering the land too much. Jareth knew the fox had explained things to the red beast when a particular loud howl shook the hovel, followed by a splash. A fresh wave of stench followed. "Brother!" came the fox's voice briskly. "Do not throw rocks!" He scolded him as one would a child.

Jareth glanced out a small window trying to see the pair. If Ludo had the mentality of a child, could it be enough for the right words to work? The rock caller moaned the word, "Sad!" Though that would send the beast to the in between and serve very little use to Jareth. What he needed was for the entity to wake up. Fifteen torturous minutes had ticked by completely out of his control.

He looked at her sleeping on the couch. Her long dark hair was tangled and messy around her head. Her lips were slightly parted as she breathed. Reclining so it struck him again how much she resembled Sarah. With Hoggle's aid he had applied various oils to her skin; anything to help her relax and heal from the wound Sarah had inflicted. For at least the third time he examined her sides looking for any physical manifestation- blood, torn skin. Nothing. Yet she had cut. Sarah had wounded her.

Outside there was another loud crash and the hovel shook again. When he didn't hear Didymus' reprimand he wondered where the fox had gotten off to. The hovel shook for far longer. Hoggle stumbled about, grasping for something to keep him upright. "That's was not Ludo!" he exclaimed as the quake subsided. "That's like what happened when Sarah disappeared."

"It's the cut," said the entity. "The fabric was rent. Hard hole to close."

Jareth turned back to her. Now that she was awake his old irritation surfaced again. "You let her do this," he said accusingly. "You let her cut her way through you. You let her go alone! Why?"

"You weren't strong enough. Simple, really. She was the only one that could go."

"I could have helped her!" he insisted.

She tilted her head quizzically. "Petulance does not become you," she said flatly. "You are helping. Me. I could not send both of you. I needed someone to take care of me."

"Of all the absurd, demanding, confusing creatures in this realm. You wanted me to take care of you?" He paused, his eyes narrowing. "You knew, didn't you? You knew Sarah was going to cut you!" He pushed Hoggle back as the dwarf attempted to offer more lavender or "perhaps some chamomile?" Jareth leaned forward on his hands, bracing himself. His fingers tingled and his center flared with warmth. "How did you know you would need someone to stay behind?"

"I am not omniscient- so put that suspicious thought out of your mind," she replied. "Her cold iron. The moment she stepped back into the Underground I knew what was in her bag."

"Sarah had cold iron in her bag?" repeated Hoggle in surprise.

"Sheathed in velvet. Not enough to hide it from me. You knew she would do something like this, go alone. There's no changing who we are. Even when we speak of change, we speak of alterations and compromises, we are still who we are. I am still who I am. You are who you are. Who is Sarah?"

Jareth looked away. "She is," he began only to stop.

"You claim her as yours, but she is her own. To herself she must remain herself."

To thine own self be true, the old adage ran through his head. Sarah's sense of responsibility, her conscience was what drove her to act. It goaded yet made him proud.

"Sarah is good," said Hoggle with a nod.

"Yes she is," Jareth agreed after a beat. "But for all her good intentions, she is alone with a mad man who has tried on several occasions to kill her."

 _ **Sarah**_

They walked for minutes and hours. Much like the darkness the silence soon became boring. It ate at her. There were words that needed to be said. Right words. She just couldn't remember what they were.

 _ **Jareth**_

"And she will be undefined until she knows who she is," said the Labyrinth. "Then she will know where to be."

When inside his apprentice's mind Jareth had heard everything that had transpired between Nightwalker and Sarah. Including what she proclaimed herself to be: the Lady Sarah, changed from mortal to Fae, and claimed by the king. He told the entity so.

"Parts of the whole," she replied. "Who are you?"

Jareth had a fleeting recollection of a conversation with Lewis Carroll. Perhaps it was the memory of the book in Sarah's apartment or perhaps it was dealing with a seemingly absurd conversation. But the words, "I know who I was this morning when I got up, but I think I must have changed several times since then." Who was he? King. Fae. Man. Lover. The entity began to laugh. Jareth scowled. "Well who the bog are you?" he snapped. "You're constantly changing. You technically have no true form. Do you even know who you are?"

She stilled her laughter. "I do. Despite my changes and my age, despite time, I am the Labyrinth." She smiled, her teeth flashing. Her appearance very unlike Sarah. "So, who are you?" she asked again.

"I am Jareth Cholbyn. And Sarah is…" He trailed still unsure how to answer. She was Sarah.

"Butcher. Baker. Candle stick maker," she said lapsing into some laughter again. "Wish granter. Woman. Lover. Daughter. She is many things. And now confronted with her deepest regret, her worst fear, she must remember her whole over her parts."

The ways he had pictured her, the ways he had actually seen her. Her messy pony tale, her long braid; mundane clothes in the kitchen, long skirts paired with magic. Her bed. His bed. Sarah was his everything. He smiled. "She is Sarah Williams."

 _ **Sarah**_

The man peeled the blackness away. It moved in thin strips, like old paint. He wasn't creating. No, she understood this. She had pulled the light from nothing, creating the opposite of dark. He was simply changing, moving the blackness to show another layer. The ground turned hard and rough. Asphalt. The word came to her. Houses, shabby and white sprang up in rows on either side of the street. Greenery appeared as well. These were plants. The man stood with his back towards her, surveying his work.

"Where are we?" she asked him. Here in this new setting he had taken on more defined features. He too wore jeans and a long sleeved… shirt? No. That wasn't quite right. It was obviously of a thicker material and it had a hood which was pulled back.

He didn't answer her right away. "I only have my memories to work with," he said. "Funny though how substantial our thoughts can be. Fleeting astral trails that can be the foundation for an entire life."

Sarah worked the hilt of the blade around in her hand. Above her a moon rose. Crickets sang. When the man turned around she was prepared to see his face. By some manipulation of the light though his face remained in shadow. "Where are we?" she asked again.

"Our beginning," he replied. Turning and beginning to walk, he added, "And our end." He picked a house and went for the front door.

Sarah didn't want to be left alone on a strange street and she wasn't at all sure how to bring the blackness back. So she followed him. The lawn was deep and unkept. The man was up the steps to the porch and through the door. She hurried to keep up. Over the creak of the screen door she heard the man talking, "The house is cold. And as for food, well, that ran out several days ago." Indeed the house did seem devoid of all warmth. On a level deeper than the physical Sarah shivered. The information that there was no food in the house made her realize that her stomach felt hallow. How could there be no food? She would need food to survive. Where had the man gone?

A living room with a sagging couch and a few scattered toys. No television. Not a single photograph. The kitchen was filthy- dirty dishes were piled lopsided in the sink, spilling over onto a crowded counter. There was a rancid, decaying smell. A trash can in the corner was laden with old waste. Slowly Sarah turned in a circle taking it all in. This was wrong.

"You're so tired of being alone." The man was suddenly in the kitchen, standing near the stove.

Sarah thought it odd that there were triangles on the stove's dials.

He reached out and touched the dials. "But being alone is far better than being forgotten," he said.

Sweatshirt. A hoodie sweatshirt. That's what he was wearing. Hoodie. Triangles. Toys. Alone. Darkness. Forgotten. Hoodie. Triangles. Toys. Alone. Darkness. Forgotten.

The man turned the dials. Flames leaped alive. Their heat should have been inconsequential. But Sarah felt them fan her skin in a searing wave. Something near the stove caught the flame and erupted into a burning flower. Something deep her mind stirred, "The child," she said.

The man's head turned slightly towards her. "There is no more child," he said.

The list ran through her head one more time: hoodie, triangles, alone, darkness, forgotten. "You are the child," she said. Her purpose in coming here, all of the facts came crashing down on her. She had cut through the mists to come to the in between. To find the child she had lost. And here he was! Sarah felt relieved. Then the gravity of the situation caught up to her: he was setting fire to their surroundings. She shot her hand out. "Stop!" she ordered. The flames froze, ceasing to consume.

"You are powerful," the man observed. "Able to create light and control another's memories. I underestimated you. Oh well."

The walls of the kitchen fell out and away. Wary she glanced around: the darkness waited. "Look," she began. "This doesn't have to go on like this. I can help you."

"Help?" he repeated. "Do you think all of this has been a cry for help? You left me. To die. I don't want your help." All parts of the house vanished. "I want your fear." He was gone.

Sarah's light bobbed slightly. Her blade felt slick in her hand. She wiped her palm on her jeans. She was here to stop him. To prevent him from causing havoc with the children whose wishes she heard. To put an end to his attempts to harm Jareth. And then ultimately to set the balance right again. She was powerful. Her eyes scanned the deep dark.

His voice came again, "My father forgot me before I was born. My mother forgot about me at a very young age. Imagine no one knowing you exist. You're less than a nuisance. You are nothing."

His words stung. She had once treated her brother Toby with such callousness. To the point where she had in a moment wished he hadn't existed any more. She had said the right words and allowed him to be taken away.

"Imagine being so low that you wish away your own existence," he sounded wistful. And right near her shoulder. She turned sharply and he was standing behind her. "It's a scary moment, right before the words come to you. Then there's an even stranger thing: peace. Someone is coming for you. Someone is going to take care of you. It's like magic," his voice had turned giddy and child like. Then he turned hard, "Then nothing."

Sarah swallowed, choosing her words carefully. "What happened to you, it's unforgivable. I know this."

"You know nothing!" he shouted. "I went from neglect to this!" His arms spread wide in the darkness. "This, vast darkness became my existence. And all the little devils that live here too."

Something moved against the dark. Sarah saw a glimpse of a paw. Then a growl. Behind there was a fluttering. What could possibly exist in between? She suddenly felt child like herself, imagining things in the dark corners of her closet or hearing breathing underneath her bed. The paralytic fear came with it.

"No mommy to call for," said the man. "No one to save you from the boogie man."

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut and cleared her mind. This wasn't real. A rustling. A scrape. Anything that lived here was nothing more than a figment of her or his imagination, she reasoned. Something slid around her leg. Her grip tightened on her blade. It's not real, it's not real, she thought trying to control her emotions. "Get out of my mind!" she shouted, flaring her orb of light.

"You think they aren't real? That it's merely a trick? How delightful," he said in sardonic tones.

She opened her eyes. The darkness that had obscured his face was now slithering over his arms and shoulders.

"Bits of dreams. Failed spells. A dash of gone wrong. A bit of abomination there. It's all here. It took me quite a while to learn how to use them. But like me they were tired of being alone and forgotten. Together we learned how to manipulate the darkness; find its thin spots."

Sarah bit down on the inside of her lip, fighting the urge to squirm. "So, together it generated enough magic for you to influence those on the other side?"

"Very good. And now I shall use it to influence you."

The flames returned, erupting into an immediate inferno. Sarah's eyes burned in the smoke and heat.

"At first I thought a bit of poetic justice would be nice- I'd kill you in my childhood home," said the man. "But you're a bit too clever to fall under the influence of my memories, so this will have to do."

Sarah coughed. The fire encircled her and the man. The heat was oppressive. Already sweat trickled down the sides of her head. For the first time since arriving in this place she felt genuine fear. "I'm sorry," she exclaimed. "You were a scared, lonely child and I failed you. But you're wrong if you think it never bothered me. I worked every single day after that, as hard as I could, so that it would never happen again! Let me help you!" she offered again.

Something in his shadowy face resembled a smile. "You are. Right now. You being in danger helps draw out the other one. The king who failed me."

She coughed again. Her eyes stung and her skin hurt. It brought to mind the burning building she had found herself in. Frantically searching for the child, fear for the life of another consuming her; ignoring her own safety. That was the night Jareth had returned to her life. Would he be in time to save her like before? She shook her head. Reaching up to wipe sweat from her eyes, she saw her cold iron knife. That reminded her of her messenger bag.

She would not fail this child again.

From her bag she pulled out her small container of salt. Salt purified. It healed. With a yell she flung it at the flames. They sputtered as the salt smothered them. One thought prevailed: save this child. He wasn't a man. He was a sacred lost boy who had been abandoned. She focused on that night, the night the first pull of a child had really been activated. Not a hunch. No an inkling. But a full blown wish. His night. Knife still in hand, she flung herself at him. She clung to him. Even as they fell back in a tangle of limbs, she raised her blade and cut at the darkness. She didn't know if it would work. She had no idea if there was any logic to what she was doing. As she slashed again she yelled, "I wish the goblins would take us away! Right now!"


	26. Chapter 26

_Sarah_

The small form in her arms struggled to breathe, instead it weezed, it's small chest rattling. One of its hands clung to her shirt fiercely holding onto her. She tried to cradle it closer. The fabric of the hoodie disintegrated with each touch and every wiggle had wisps of fabric falling to the floor. She spoke soothing words, "I have you. Its going to be okay now. You're safe. Sshhh! There, there. I won't let you go." She knew the words were a lie. Knew it the moment they passed her lips. The little face seemed to be melting before her eyes, his form not just struggling to breath but remain solid. But the eyes, oh, the eyes were of those of a frightened boy. She saw her brother in those eyes.

She was completely unaware of her surroundings. She sensed no mists or darkness. The sound of running footsteps had her dazedly looking around: Jareth was rushing towards her. "Help!" she called. "Oh Jareth please help!" She looked back down at the child, her vision blurring.

Jareth was on the ground next to her. "Is this…?" his question trailed.

"I wished us both away," she explained frantically. Her sobbing caused more of the fabric to fall away. "We must save him!"

Jareth moved to bring a hand under the little head. The eyes that looked up at him were clouded over. "His essence is failing," he said. "He spent too much time in between. I," he paused. "I don't know that there is anything to be done. He is dying."

Sarah felt her face distort and the refusal to accept his answer. Hot tears poured over her face. The sense of failure, the anguish of the life wasted, flooded her soul.

Gently she felt Jareth take on more of the boy's weight. He leaned his head against hers. "Close your eyes," he said. She didn't know if he meant it for her or the child, but she closed them any how. His voice was low and he said words she couldn't comprehend. A prayer? A chant? She could only comprehend that they were sacred words, old and holy. Then she felt him move one of her hands to the boy's temple, where she could mentally connect with him. She struggled to find anything.

"You were never forgotten," she murmured. She felt the chest attempt to rise again. She pushed through the heavy emotions and tried to focus on love; that in never forgetting him she would always love him."I carried you with me all these years. I will never forget you." The small body shifted and went still.

"It is done," Jareth then said. He leaned away and began to work the clasp on his cloak.

Sarah ventured a glance down: the child's skin was no longer melting away. But he was some how changed. His parlor had taken on a greenish hue. His eyes like two black dots. Jareth had removed his cloak and was wrapping it around the body, folding and tucking. Some where in her anguish she understood that he had changed him, took away his human form and gave him a new one. He looked goblin.

"His last breath was spent in peace," Jareth assured her. "Whole, knowing he was loved."

Both of them sat there on the ground. Sarah looked around, blinking, realizing that she was in full light, kneeling on hard stone. Why was it so unbearably hot? They were in the throne room and the sun was pouring in through several windows. She had asked to be taken away; had in a moment of fear and hope asked for someone to come and rescue them. Her knife was on the floor near her. Her eyes went from it to Jareth. She may have said the right words, even performed the appropriate actions, but it was him who had responded. Jareth had come for her, pulling her through the rent in time, folding away all of the realities and colors to bring them to his home. Safe.

There was a commotion approaching from the main hall. Some where in the noise of guards and servants she made out Nightwalker's voice, taking charge and ordering that their master be located. "There has been a wish!" he explained. Finding the two of them with the small form between them caused the other fae to start and draw back. "Oh the Seven Graces!" he exclaimed, recovering himself and approaching his king.

Jareth shook his head. "Help Sarah to her feet," he ordered. "And Stephen: there has been a death."

Kneeling beside him Nightwalker nodded solemnly before putting an arm around Sarah. A dizzy spell caused her to stumble. It was so hot. She heard several gasps of concern and then blackness.

 _Jareth_

The extreme heat took her within moments of her returning. It was the same symptoms she had the first time she had gone through time. Even as Nightwalker caught her, Jareth felt a real pang of fear. She had been gone too long in the in between; she had performed magic that not even a mature fae could master. Would her body be able to right its self? Perhaps with his aid he might to draw the heat away again, or with the Labyrinth's help then… His brain could not process. In his arms he had a child; a child who needed his final tending. This task needed to be taken care of before he could help anyone else.

Reluctantly he watched Nightwalker carry his Sarah towards his chamber, and then folded the planes to a secluded spot deep within the Forbidden Forest. Finding a spot near a stream, he stood suddenly hesitant to perform his duty. All things were the Underground's and all things returned to it in death. He would cause a hole to appear, wide enough for the body, and then after placing the form within the cool earth, he would seal the grave. But Jareth found himself struggling. He had expected relief, even a degree of satisfaction in knowing this troublesome problem was at an end, but what he had not expected was to feel his own tears. He had been too late before, had seen death, and knew its cold touch. This child though, this misfit who had been left in between, his death was too monumental. He felt a strong sense of failure; that it had not been Sarah's fault, but all his.

With great effort he caused the earth to open and he buried the changed child. His thoughts ran pell-mell as he remembered that blasted peach; Nightwalker being forced into his personal space; Sarah throwing a chair at the bubble's membrane; the heat of the burning building; her pokey apartment that felt like a second home; the Labyrinth writhing in pain; and through it all that it was his pride and stubbornness that had caused it all. And the prevailing fear that he had come too close to loosing her one too many times.

He took several deep breaths trying to master his feelings. There were other matters that still needed to be dealt with. He wiped at his face. He was loath to leave Sarah in his apprentice's care much longer. But first he had to go see the entity. Nothing in this world would ever be right again if he lost the Labyrinth. Even Sarah's health.

He pulled the planes and strode towards the hovel where he had been only a short time before. The lumbering red beast, Ludo was pacing near the door. It looked to its king with dark eyes full of concern. Jareth put a hand to the hairy shoulder. "She's back," he said. "Sarah came back."

Ludo raised one of his large hands and gently wiped a finger across Jareth's cheek. The padding was surprisingly soft. "Good," was all he said.

Momentarily sheepish (a strange and rather unwelcomed feeling) Jareth patted the shoulder again, cleared his throat, and entered the home. He found both Hoggle and Sir Didymus gawking at the bed where he had left the entity. The bed itself was greatly altered: a deep emerald moss had grown up over the covers and a canopy of vines had spread and woven its way around the pillow. Reaching out Jareth moved some of the leaves aside and found that her face was covered in moss as well.

"What does this mean?" asked Didymus anxiously.

Jareth shook his head. One cut rendered the entity unconscious. Perhaps two sent her into a coma. "All I know is that Sarah came back," he he told them.

Hoggle let out a huff.

Sir Didymus said, "My lady!" in relief.

"Then what's you doing here still?" asked Hoggle. "You's should be with her."

Jareth nodded. "Yes. Yes I should. Send word the moment anything changes." In the doorway he paused and turned back. "You are all some of the most loyal traitors to the crown I've ever had the pleasure to work with." With a smile he left.

...

Stephen had gotten Sarah into bed. His apprentice lingered near his brow tight and his hands repeatedly smoothing blankets. When Jareth approached he opened his mouth to speak. "Peace Stephen," he said holding up a hand. "I will say only this, that the threat is gone, but more I cannot explain. Is she still hot to the touch?"

Nightwalker nodded.

"I will tend to her-,"

"My lord you are exhausted," began Stephen.

Jareth waved his hand. "I will manage. I want you to go to the Bog and find the hovel of Sir Didymus. There you will find an entity- the Labyrinth- and I want you to provide any care or need that arises. Do your job Stephen."

With his apprentice gone and Sarah lost in the throws of ancient magic, Jareth once more felt his emotions roll within him and a great tiredness fall over him. He just needed to muster a little more strength; just portion out a little bit more of himself for Sarah's sake. The blankets were a mistake; she was already too hot. He pulled them away. He then felt her face, felt the perspiration building along her hair line as her body's temperature soared.

As before he began undressing her. This time though he would not call servants to help with cold compresses; this time he would take her to the washroom and submerge both of them in tepid water. Skin to skin. His body helping to regulate hers. She was limp in his arms as he carried her. He tried not to worry at the sight of her flushed chest. Careful not to slip he cradled her in his arms and lowered both of them into the tub, arranging her head on his chest. What little resources he had left he flicked a finger at the faucet and began filling the confined space with water.

With his free hand he scooped the water and ran it down her back. Her chest against his was still radiating heat. There were words he could try, there were incantations that might lure the residual magic away from her. The same words he had tried using the first time. He knew them readily enough, but his mouth wasn't cooperating. He scooped more water.

"Wake up," Jareth said quietly. There was a tremor in his voice.

Had this last time been too much? Was she beyond his help now? Had she sacrificed herself in order to put things right? No. He refused to let her go. Blinking back the sting of tears he shifted her in his arms so he could see her face. More water. He wiped her face and smoothed her dark hair. Then he kissed her. Against her lips he could feel the sob that wanted to escape.

"I protect what's mine," he whispered to her.

The last bit of magic he felt within himself he collected, concentrated it, and passed it to her. Pressing his hand to her cheek he felt it leave him. That was the last of himself, given for her sake. Depleted and raw, defenseless and vulnerable, he leaned against the side of the tub and waited. He had absolutely no say, no power; he could only wait. A water droplet splashed. Something structural settled in the walls.

In his mind he saw the moss that had settled over the entity. He imagined being covered and cocooned similarly, safe to heal.

Subtly he felt her shift. There was a squeak as limbs slid across the porcelain, and then her voice small and quiet. "Jareth?"

A surprised gasp escaped him as he moved to look down at her. "You're alright!" he exclaimed in relief. Awkwardly he pressed her closer, only to pull back again to see her green eyes. She looked at him dazedly, as if she could go back to sleep without hesitation. "Keep your eyes open," he told her. "Talk to me! Oh my beautiful woman!" He kissed her.

Somehow he managed to get them both out and wrapped in towels and blankets. He kept her talking; her voice an assurance that she had fully come back to him. Did she remember what happened? Did she know she had been successful? Slowly her eyes cleared and her face though tired was not slack, and she was able to answer him. Together on the bed, both of them in dry clothes, wrapped in soft blankets, she told him what she could remember.

"It exists," she said leaning against his side. "this place in between. It was so dark. Yet there were things, creatures, that existed there. And that's where he had been living."She began her account of the darkness, finding the man who proved to be the young boy; the creatures that slithered, the fire that was real. "I don't exactly understand it, but whatever form of magic existed there he was able to tap into it and use it." She paused and yawned. "I feel as if I could sleep for a week," she then remarked.

Jareth felt her settle against him. "But he needed someone to help him," he commented.

"Yes. Which is why he needed Nightwalker, which is why he used the ruins. Jareth, that place, that place needs to be sealed off. No one should ever be allowed to go there again. We have a responsibility to make sure this never happens to anyone else."

Absently he stroked the top of her head. "I know," he agreed. There was so much they needed to sort out still. When she said nothing more he softly called her name. Her breathing was even and deep, her skin cool to the touch; she had fallen asleep. He felt his own eyelids droop.

 _The Worm_

It had taken almost a full day to dig and crawl through the muck, dirt, and tunnels. His little body was sore and he felt incredibly dirty. Even worms have standards of cleanliness, and he knew he was in state. His poor red scarf was in tatters by the time he reached the hovel. But love drives even the simplest of creatures to endure whatever it takes to be with their mate, and his missus needed him. The dwarf might know the way she liked the roses trimmed and the king might have respect for her curves, but only he knew how she liked her cuppa tea.

* * *

 _Author's Notes: I apologize profusely for the delay in updating this story. It was never dead, nor forgotten; it just needed to simmer for a very long time. I am working on a conclusion. There are still a few bits that need tidying up. For those of you who have waited patiently and to those who have continued to bug me over the last year, I thank you. Thank you fifty times over; seventy times seven even._


	27. Chapter 27

Standing in the middle of her kitchen, bare feet against the linoleum, Sarah focused on her stove. On the burner was a frying pan and on the counter a carton of eggs. She raised her hand and willed the egg to leave its nook and hover over the pan. When she heard the satisfying crack and subsequent sizzle as the contents hit the hot surface, she grinned. "Yes!" she exclaimed quietly in self-congratulations. At least half a dozen other attempts lay splattered, smeared, and drooping over the surrounding area. Feeling confident she focused her attention on a near by spatula.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," came a stern voice behind her.

"Oh ye of little faith," she quipped.

The spatula wavered over the frying pan. Sarah pictured in her mind what she wanted to accomplish. Part of learning how to control her powers was visualization. She pictured all of the times she had fried eggs before.

Jareth spoke again, "I thought keeping the apartment was to maintain a bit of normalcy in our lives?"

She ignored him. Lowering her hand, she managed to get the cooking utensil level with the egg. Now she just needed to slide it under and make it flip. Next to her she felt a bodily presence and then a hand resting on the small of her back. Then there was a ghosting of lips across her shoulders.

"That's not fair," she bit out, determined not to be distracted. She managed to get under the cooking egg.

A definite kiss and hands moving over her hips. "Multitasking is a crucial part of the learning process," Jareth replied.

Her lips puckered at the memory of him accusing her of not being able to think and make love at the same time. This was certainly not a similar scenario, but he enjoyed being in the middle of whatever she was doing. Even if that meant being a distraction. If the egg ended up flipping into his hair or on his face, she'd plead innocence and that it was an accident. Though such unruliness in her powers had not occurred during the last three months of practice.

With renewed determination she flipped the egg. "Ha!" she exclaimed pulling away from him. Too hungry to continue practicing or tempting fate, Sarah plated the egg using her hands. She turned to look at Jareth beaming with pride in her accomplishment.

He smiled crookedly. "Who knew that ripping apart time could prove easy compared to frying eggs," he teased. And then with definite smack of the lips, "And where is mine?"

"Magic or non-magic?" she asked with a roll of her eyes.

He surveyed the mess. "Non-magic, I should think. You know I am proud of you," he then added as she scowled. "How about I clean up the mess?" With a wave of his hand the splattered cooking mess was gone. Sarah cracked another egg into the pan using her hand.

It had been three months since the incident and there was still a far amount that needed tending to. The Labyrinth had survived; the appearance of a certain blue worm for some reason playing a crucial role. Nightwalker had described the relationship as something between endearing and just plain weird: "He curled up in the tangle of hair and vines, made sure any tea served her had copious amounts of sugar, and stayed with her night and day. Kept calling her his missus." After four days of this the entity and the worm agreed it was time to go home and they had simply vanished from the bed in the hovel. No one had physically seen them since. But the land seemed fine; flourishing even. Several baskets of turnips from some grateful gnome clans had appeared in the throne room, as well as several bouquets of roses.

Sarah shifted in her seat, trying to find a comfortable position. Her hip twinged and she decided tucking a foot under her on the chair might alleviate the discomfort. It was something that had never bothered her before the incident. "So you want me to go to court with you around Halloween?" she asked in between bites. "Alright then it only seems fair that you need to experience Thanksgiving with me."

"Sarah did we just agree to introduce each other to our respective families?"

She smiled broadly. "Yes, I believe we did. Ow!" She had moved in a certain fashion as to cause her hip to pain her again. She rubbed at it.

Jareth tossed his napkin down on the table. "Still troubling you isn't it? I could always..." He proffered his hands in an invitation to try to heal her.

"You've already tried that," she reminded him. Jareth had in fact tried on multiple occasions to set her hip right, usually beginning in a massage and ending in the two of them in bed. "No, something tells me I might be stuck with this annoying twinge, rather like a battle wound."

Sarah wondered what exactly her parents would think of Jareth. He was obviously older than her in both demeanor and age- human as well as fae- and the fact that he had no nameable source of income would prove most awkward with her father. He's rather like a landlord or an investor, she mused. Heir to an obscure throne won't fly. That and the fact that they were already married according to Underground custom would also add another interesting layer to the meet up.

At least it won't be a complete shock, she mused finishing her eggs, I did mention him in passing on the phone to Karen.

She heard a familiar humming sound, and knew her mirror was activated. Jareth reached for it on the counter behind them and handed it to her. Touching the fogged over glass, it cleared and showed the face of Hoggle. "Good morning!" she greeted him cheerfully.

"Mornin' Sarah," returned the dwarf. "I needs you both to be coming back to the castle soon."

"We're planning on coming back before lunch. Is everything okay?" she then asked as she saw Hoggle's eyes gaze at something outside her line of sight.

"Uh," Hoggle began only to pause. His nose twitched. "I think you all needs to be seeing it for yourselves. Something odd's happened."

Sarah caught Jareth's eye. Anything deemed odd in a world of fantasy made both of them uneasy. After everything that had happened, that very hint of something different caused a brief wave of panic; at least for Sarah. She felt her chest tighten. Jareth snapped his fingers at the table, effectively cleaning away all of their breakfast. "We're on our way," she told Hoggle and ended the call. Standing up from the table and being careful of her hip, she moved towards the bedroom. "Let me put some jeans on and those brown boots you recently gave me."

"Work, work, work," muttered Jareth standing and stretching. "I was sincerely hoping for a nice shower and a free morning with you."

She poked her head out from the bedroom. "Want to send Nightwalker instead?" she offered.

Jareth shook his head. "Let the man alone, after all he has been on the night shift this past week. He's probably exhausted." A few minutes later he asked her, "Ready?"

Sarah moved close to him and wrapped her arms around his middle. He had opted for Aboveground clothes as well, claiming that bluejeans were considerably more durable, while Sarah suspected he wore them more frequently because she had once commented that his backside looked tempting clad in them. He held onto her and tilted, their feet leaving the ground. The kaleidoscope of colors flashed around them as they traveled by magic. Sarah watched them fascinated by their beauty. She had to fight hard against the desire to stretch a hand out and caress the rainbows and flashes of colors.

Instead she held tighter to Jareth and let her mind wander over the last three months. Aside from learning how to manage her powers better and understand how ruling a kingdom worked, there had also been the adjustment of Stephen Nightwalker. There really hadn't been much deliberation regarding the apprentice- he knew far too much about the workings and goings on around the castle, specifically Jareth's job. So instead of grooming him to take Jareth's place, he became in a manner of speaking the king's right hand man. All three could feel the pull of a wished away and respond at will, but Sarah needed further guidance and Jareth needed to train her. That and if they were being brutally honest and transparent, they were also very distracted by each other. So the work load needed to be divided among them.

The colors vanished and she felt the ground under her feet once more. They had arrived outside the castle's main doors. She surveyed the cottages that the goblins dwelt in, dingy homes that were well loved. The central water fountain with its phallic water spouts, gurgled and ran; a chicken clucked and a cat hissed, followed by the sounds of a scuffle- everything seemed in order.

"Where is the problem?" Jareth asked.

Sarah shook her head.

A smaller entrance door creaked open behind them. "There's you are!" exclaimed Hoggle, poking his head out. "Inside!"

"The problem is inside?" questioned Jareth following.

"This way," explained Hoggle as he trotted down the hall. Veering towards the left, away from the throne room, he moved towards the back part of the castle, passing Jareth's study. Opening a door that would have led to more quarters, Hoggle stepped through and showed them that there was nothing. Curious, Sarah moved over dirt and out into open air.

"Where's the rest of the castle?" she asked surprised.

"I's don't know!" said Hoggle throwing up his hands.

"Jareth, I thought you said there was a ballroom back here," she said turning to look at him. "Or something like that."

Jareth looked perturbed. Part of his castle was indeed missing. "What the bog?" he cursed his eyes searching the vacant ground. "A ballroom and a conservatory! Gone!"

In the distance Sarah could see the beginnings of a garden and beyond that a stone wall. She wondered if it was part of the Labyrinth. "How?" she asked.

Jareth's lips were a thin hard line, he was breathing heavy through his nose. He had gone from annoyed to angry. "My home!" he exclaimed to the air. "Hoggle what was going on before you discovered this?"

"Nothin'," replied the dwarf. "Didymus and I were playing chess up in the throne room, and we's felt the earth give a shake. Thought at first that maybe Ludo was redecorating the garden. But then one of the guards came rushing in saying that this," his hands indicated the empty space. "had happened."

An earth quake would have made sense if the structure had fallen apart, but its vanishing didn't add up. Three months did not seem a long enough respite before another mystery or threat to their lives, lamented Sarah.

"Greetings!" called a voice.

To everyone's surprise from the direction of the garden came a woman. Everyone at once recognized her: the Labyrinth was walking towards them. Sarah didn't know whether to feel wary or relieved at the sight of the entity. Next to her Jareth sighed and the two shred a glance that spoke of both of their mutual misgivings. They had decided in private moments, their heads touching and bodies lying side by side that they both loved and feared her. Now they both inclined their heads in respect.

"It is good to see you again," said Sarah in all sincerity. The entity looked quite well, rather like herself if Sarah was being honest. Same long dark hair and green eyes, but her skin wasn't quite right. It shimmered when she moved. And did it just ripple there on her arm? Jareth had informed her of these oddities, but seeing them in person was unsettling.

As if sensing her unease the Labyrinth's hair sprouted several flowers and the strands curled into tight ringlets. "Greetings Lady Sarah and Jareth," she returned the greeting with a smile. "I see you found my gift."

"Eh?" let out Hoggle.

Jareth cleared his throat. "Pardon us Labyrinth, but what gift?"

"This clearing," she responded her hands spreading wide. "It is the perfect spot."

All three of them glanced around at the empty space, not knowing whether to express gratitude or explain their confusion.

Sarah recalled a conversation in the throne room about the Labyrinth annexing sections of land at her discretion. This had been a sore point among a clan of gnomes. Had the Labyrinth taken a portion of the castle? Whatever would she do with a ballroom? Sarah thought pulling a face. "A perfect spot for what?" she asked carefully.

"The nursery of course," replied the Labyrinth. "You will need a large one."

Sarah felt all of the color drain out of her face. A nursery? For children? And a large one? Instinctively her hand went to her stomach. No. No, she wasn't ready for this. Her chest tightened and she felt she was having a hard time drawing a deep breath. Give her time slippage, lost children, or even a clogged bog canal- being a mother was far scarier than any of those things. It simply wasn't something she had ever considered happening.

The Labyrinth looked positively pleased with herself.

Into the stunned silenced Hoggle offered, "Uh, congrats?" He even seem skeptical.

Sarah looked to Jareth: his brow was pinched and his lips had fallen open. He scoffed loudly, his face melting into a smile and a half-cocked eye brow. Then he was laughing: a giddy, nervous laugh. "Hah-ha!" he exclaimed all traces of his anger gone.

The next thing she knew, Sarah was pulled into his arms and her feet were swept out from under her as he lifted her up. "Whoa!" she cried out.

"My beautiful queen!" he exclaimed. Then just as sudden as his out burst had been, he gently put her back down, and knelt before her on the ground. With a hand on her stomach, he asked, "How soon?"

Was he genuinely happy about this? But it had only been a few short months. Sarah could feel herself reeling. She regained her balance, awkwardly hopping as her hip twinged. And how soon? Didn't he know it took nine months? She looked at the Labyrinth who stood smiling so happy with her delivered news.

"Time enough to build it all properly," said the entity. "You shall have an heir Jareth. A male, a female, and a miss. There is always sadness with the gladness; a balance to be kept. When next I return I shall have blessings for all of them." And without any further explanation the Labyrinth turned and walked back into the garden.

Later that night as they readied for bed Sarah could no longer hide her shock and her deep misgivings about parenthood. She had listened to Jareth prattle the rest of the day about his excitement, but she could not muster the same reaction. She leaned back against the pillows and finally snapped, "Jareth I can't do this!"

He looked questioningly at her.

"Me? A mom?" she asked. "We're just starting out. I have yet to actually introduce you to my parents. Oh the Fates preserve me- my dad is gonna flip!" she exclaimed, the fact dawning on her that she would be showing come Thanksgiving.

Jareth smirked and folded his arms. "And you'll look stunning," he assured her.

"Jareth you're missing the point! I'm not ready for this," she explained.

He climbed up on the bed next to her. "It's not like a child is going to come popping out of you tomorrow, my dear," he told her. "The Labyrinth didn't actually say when it would be happening. Just that we should expect it, a guarantee that there will be an heir to my throne." Taking her hand he kissed the skin, trying to sooth her worries. "I for one am thrilled at the idea of having a child with you."

"It's just something I never thought about doing, you know? I was always focused on helping, on answering the pull. Wait- what do you mean the Labyrinth didn't actually say when? Is it different for fae women? Well let me tell you, you should expect nine months of morning sickness, cravings, and me turning into a bloated, round, unattractive-," Her rant was cut short by Jareth leaning in and kissing her on her lips.

"It means," he said lingering near her face. "that it could be nine months from now or nine years. The entity glimpsed into time and she knows what will happen. In the mean time we continue to live our lives together between worlds. Now," he moved closer still, one of his hands moving along her waist. "How about I try setting that troublesome hip again, hmm?"

She knew what he was insinuating, what he wanted, and she let herself be pulled along into his heat and need. Oh there were going to be changes. For one thing she was going to introduce him to all manners of human birth control: condoms, the diaphragm, and then she would even draw him a danged chart about her cycle. Eventually.

He rolled her to lay across him.

Of course no amount of interference could stop what the universe had destined for them.

THE END


End file.
